Mercurial
by keepcalmandshiptiva94
Summary: "That's the thing: A baby changes everything, and I think that we just have to come to terms with the fact that from this point on, everything is changeable and unpredictable." A TxZ pregnancy fanfic that I've been working on since the Housekeeping commentary.
1. Chapter 1

**Yeah, I'm starting a new one with my busy life. We'll see how this works. Anyway, after the Housekeeping commentary, I had this strange want to write a pregnancy fanfic. So, I started working on it, and Stephanie (aka dinutzzo on tumblr) kinda helped proofread and offer criticism. I know pregnancy fics are done alot, but either way, I hope you'll enjoy this one. For those who are curious, the title, Mercurial, means changeable and unpredictable, which are words I incorporated into the summary, if you noticed. **

**Anway, I'm going to stop typing now and let you read. Hope you enjoy it! **

Sometimes, cases are easy. A jealous ex-husband killed his ex-wife's new boyfriend. A business deal goes wrong. Anger gets the better of people and they react harshly. Those are all simple, open and shut, with no complications or emotional trauma to the team investigating.

Tony DiNozzo had experienced a fair share of those "easier" cases, and after several years of working for NCIS, he had learned, in a strange way, to appreciate them.

Sometimes, however, things weren't so simple.

At first glance, this new case had seemed simple enough. They had someone in custody when a murder similar to the first occurred. Then, there was a third.

It had taken a lot out of them, realizing two times that they had the wrong person in custody. They all were relieved when they finally got the right man, but by then, three lives had been lost, and to all the members of Team Gibbs, that was three lives too many.

"I still cannot believe it was him the whole time." Ziva said quietly as they sipped on their drinks. She had her elbow on the counter, and her hand was supporting her chin. "All that time, he was right there, and we didn't see it. We let him get away with two more murders before we finally caught him."

Tony heard the sadness in her voice, and his automatic instinct was to comfort her. "I know. It's tough when that happens, but at least… at least we got him, right? We won, eventually."

"Did we?" her response was quick and sharp, and she stared into her drink as if it might give her the answers for which she so desperately searched. "He killed three women, Tony. No one won here."

He sighed, feeling a little defeated as her words rocked him to his core. He mirrored her position, feeling exhausted. "You're right."

At his simple admittance, she turned to face him, eyes glistening with tears that any other day, she wouldn't dare shed. "I do not want to be right, Tony."

His heart lurched almost painfully at the moisture in her eyes. He could see clearly her longing to be comforted, and he longed to do so in return. So, in the middle of a semi-crowded bar on a Thursday night after a really overwhelming case, he reached up to brush his fingers across her cheek before leaning in to kiss her. It was somewhat strange, kissing her. He'd only kissed her once, and that had been in an undercover assignment, though it was definitely one he'd enjoyed, except for the fact that he'd gotten hit in the face seven times. Now, though, he was kissing her in a much softer manner, his lips gently moving against her own, and no one was watching them with surveillance cameras this time. This time, he was kissing her because he wanted to.

Silently, in the back of his mind, he admitted to himself that he really, really liked kissing her.

However, if he'd known where that one, simple kiss would lead them, he would have thought twice before doing it in the first place.

* * *

When Tony woke the next morning, he was in his apartment, in his bed, alone. He sat up, taking an entire minute to figure out why he felt so disoriented, and then the memories flooded his mind.

He remembered her legs around his waist as he kissed her already swollen lips. He remembered pulling her shirt over her head and letting his hands run down her body. He remembered their bodies, moving together as if they were familiar with each other.

And he supposed, in some ways, they were.

He groaned out loud as the full force of the situation hit him hard, and he put his head in his hands. It would have been one thing if he had woken up and she had still been there, because then, they could have at least figured out what last night had meant. They could have talked about it together, if she had stayed, but she hadn't. At some point, she had gotten up, gotten dressed, and simply left.

That scared him more than he would ever be willing to admit, and what scared him even more was that when he walked into the squad room forty five minutes later, she was sitting at her desk, doing something at her computer, and when he walked by, she didn't look up at him, and didn't say a word.

He tried unsuccessfully several times to get her attention from across the office, but it was pointless. She stared intently at her computer for the majority of the day, especially when he also in the room. Each time he looked up at her intent stare, his heart sank down to his stomach.

She was ignoring him with one hell of a purpose, and the only reasons he could imagine were painful ones.

So, he sat there at his desk as the day passed uneventfully, trying to make sense of everything. It wasn't that she hadn't enjoyed herself. That much had been fairly obvious, but as he watched her carefully throughout the day, he wondered if she thought he hadn't thought anything of it. Maybe she simply expected him to act like it was nothing, even when it wasn't.

Or maybe it was. He honestly was so disoriented he wasn't even sure.

* * *

Somehow, fate decided to let Gibbs and McGee leave before them that day, and as noises of them gathering their things to leave rang through the otherwise silent room, Tony found himself asking the simple question that had been bothering him all day.

"Why aren't you speaking to me?" His voice echoed through the nearly empty room.

She stopped in the middle of what she was doing, closing her eyes as if in pain. He waited, already preparing himself for the stab of rejection that he simply knew would follow her answer.

"I…" She hesitated, seeming to be searching for the right words. "I just didn't have anything to say."

He nodded tersely. "Nothing at all?" His voice had an edge to it that he hadn't meant to put there, but once he had spoken, it seemed fitting.

She nodded, but her face contradicted the motion. "Nothing."

He swallowed, his composure and tense attitude slipping. "Ziva, don't-"

"Just drop it, Tony. We… we messed up." His heart dropped at her words. That wasn't what he wanted her to say at all. "We were overwhelmed by the emotions that came up because of that case, and we did… what we did… in an attempt to comfort each other and ourselves. That's all."

He felt his throat threatening to close up, and he nodded again, looking out the window into the darkened D.C. sky. The city lights seemed to mock him and his now gloomed mood. "Okay. Fine."

He turned off his lamp and walked to the elevator with his head down, leaving her standing at her desk. As he waited on the elevator, he risked a glance back at her, only to see that she was standing exactly where he had left her, and she was still in the same position as he stepped into the elevator.

Once he was safely inside the steel walls, he leaned his head back against the metal, sighing, her words playing over in his mind. She had shrugged the whole thing off like it was nothing, and maybe it wasn't to her, but as he closed his eyes and fought the exhaustion that suddenly threatened to crush him, he realized that maybe, just maybe, it had meant something to him.

He would be one of the first people to admit that he hadn't always been the most honorable man. Most people that knew him were aware of that. In his younger years, he'd played around, and only once had he ever had real feelings for anyone, and that was a time he tried not to recall on most days. He'd changed, though. He wasn't like that anymore. He thought Ziva knew that, but either she didn't, or she was simply choosing to ignore it because it was… easier.

He didn't just sleep with random women anymore. In fact, he hadn't been with anyone since EJ, and most of his co-workers knew that. Yet, for some reason, Ziva was simply shrugging off their night as one of his many, when he knew, and he would bet that she also knew, that was not the case.

It had meant something to him.

He cursed out loud as the elevator doors dinged open, and he ignored the strange look the front desk worker gave him when he walked through the lobby and out to the parking lot, surprised that he could even function properly, because in all honestly, this whole situation had him feeling just a little bit overwhelmed.


	2. Chapter 2

**I was pretty impressed with the feedback on this story. while I only got 10 reviews, they were all pretty inspiring, and the 33 followers definitely makes up for that. Hope you enjoy this next chapter! **

At first, she'd honestly thought they everything would just go back to normal. They'd simply needed comfort in a difficult time, and they had, as they always have, comforted each other as only they can.

At least, that was what she kept telling herself.

Telling herself that was ten times easier than trying to delve into a world of feelings she wasn't nearly ready to face yet, even after nearly 8 years. Telling herself that it was nothing allowed her to push herself further into the world of denial that she'd been in practically since she came to America. Telling herself that it would be easy for everything to go back to normal helped her believe that maybe, just maybe, everything would, and everything would be fine.

That was before she realized it had been a little too long since her last period.

That was before she took three different pregnancy tests, each a day apart, and they'd all said the same thing: _positive._

For the first few days after she took the tests, denial seemed to be her best solution. She trashed the tests, put on a smile, and went to work in the same manner she always did. She acted like nothing was wrong, and one day, when she happened to catch Tony's eye across the office, he smiled at her, and for the briefest moment, everything felt normal again, and that simple smile was the first positive thing she'd seen out of him since they'd slept together.

She even began to believe that the tests had somehow been wrong.

Then, she woke up one morning about a week later, only to lose the entire contents of her stomach in her kitchen sink while trying to make a simple breakfast.

Once she'd collapsed wearily on the floor, the bitter taste lingering in her mouth, she'd put her head in her hands and cried for what seemed to be an immeasurable amount of time, but was really only about ten minutes.

And when she showed up fifteen minutes late for work that morning, she barely managed to tell everyone that she wasn't feeling too well before another wave of nausea hit her, and she rushed to the bathroom.

That was when the full force of the situation hit her, and as she came to the realization of what was happening while staring at herself in the mirror, her bottom lip quivered, and she felt absolutely terrified.

How in the world was she supposed to handle something like this? She couldn't play the denial card with herself anymore. She was pregnant. Her mind flashed to her partner, who had simply wanted to comfort her, and had done so much more. She thought back to that night, and how vividly she could recall the way he'd touched and kissed her. The way he'd moved over her so easily, so naturally, like it wasn't something completely new, and she guessed, in a strange way, it wasn't. Their undercover operation had been ages ago, but sometimes she still smiled at how they'd teased each other and played around in order to put on the façade. It had been one of the easiest operations she'd ever done as far as the "undercover" aspect was concerned. It had been fun, to an extent, other than both of them coming within inches of being killed.

Now, there was a life, half his, growing inside her with the passing of every moment and she had absolutely no idea what the hell she was supposed to do about it.

She cursed out loud into the empty bathroom, wiping the moisture from underneath her eyes quickly, wondering if Tony would follow her, and then knowing that eventually, he would.

He always followed her.

The door opened about five minutes later, as she had assumed it would, and Tony came in, eyes worried, body in a guarded position, as if he were afraid of hurting himself.

She hated that she'd done that to him. He didn't deserve to feel that way because of her.

He stood with his back to the door for a moment, and then he spoke, his words barely reaching her ears. "Is there something you're not telling me?" She couldn't find a way to force her voice past the lump in her throat, however, and he spoke again, voice slightly stronger. "Ziva, you don't get sick. I've known you for almost eight years, and… you don't get sick. You just don't. You never have."

She pulled her bottom lip in between her teeth to keep it from trembling, but a lone tear slipped down her cheek. She wiped at it quickly, but knew he had seen it.

"Ziva." His guard dropped slightly as his tone softened, and she closed her eyes, hands braced on the sink. "Tell me what's wrong."

She opened her eyes, meeting his in the mirror. He took a step closer, hesitating.

"I'm sorry." Her voice sounded foreign to her ears, and she closed her eyes, hanging her head. "I'm so sorry."

She felt any inch of resolve she had left slipping, and she squeezed her eyes together tighter, wishing she could turn back time.

"What are you sorry for?" His eyes told her that he was genuinely curious, and he wasn't being sarcastic or simply asking so that she would answer. He genuinely didn't know.

That made it ten times harder to face what she had to tell him. She couldn't just keep it from him, could she? It was his child, their child, forming inside her. He had the right to know that, no matter what the circumstances.

That definitely didn't make it any easier to say.

"'I... Tony." She turned, looking at him, swallowing twice before she could speak again."I… You're right. I'm not sick, technically."

"Then what are you?" He asked, taking another step toward her. "Tell me, Ziva. What's wrong?"

Her chin trembled and she put her hand over her mouth. His eyes were so concerned, so caring. She broke eye contact, no longer able to hold his gaze.

She closed her eyes, the nausea in her stomach stirring up again as she finally spoke, her voice weaker than she would have ever wanted it to be. "I'm pregnant, Tony." She felt her stomach lurch as the words left her mouth. "I'm pregnant."

She didn't look up at him, so she didn't see his reaction. All she heard was his sharp intake of breath and the long silence that followed before he spoke. "Are you sure?"

"Yes, Tony, I'm sure!" she snapped, looking back up at him, tears spilling down her cheeks now. "I haven't had a period in six weeks and I've taken three tests! Would you like more proof than that?"

He looked down at his feet. "I guess not. I probably shouldn't ask, but uh… Is it- I mean, it's- you know… "

"Yes." She answered the question she knew was on his tongue. "It's yours."

He pursed his lips, and was silent for a long moment before he finally spoke. "Well, damn."

She laughed a quick, bitter laugh. "I suppose so."

He stood there for another long moment, staring at his feet, and then he looked up and came to stand right in front of her. Moisture gleamed in his own eyes as he reached up to wipe away her tears with his thumb. Her hands acted of their own accord and came up to rest on his sides., tears still continuing to fall. She let her head drop to rest on his chest, feeling weak as he spoke. "I… I don't know what to say."

She shrugged as his hands fell back to his sides, and her own followed. She lifted her head to give him a bitter half smile. "Me either."

He leaned against the sink, rubbing his hand wearily over his forehead. "So what happens now?"

She mirrored his position beside him, her bottom lip in between her teeth. She opened her mouth to respond, but no words were formed. She looked up at him, feeling helpless and lost.

He sighed, wrapping his arm around her shoulder in a comforting gesture as she struggled to find her voice. "I don't know." She finally whispered painfully, her voice cracking as she turned her face into his shoulder. "I just know that… I can't do… _this _alone, Tony."

He swallowed past the lump in his throat to respond, and his arm tightened around her. "You don't have to, Ziva. I can promise you that. I don't know what happens now any more than you do, but I swear whatever it is, you won't have to do it alone."


	3. Chapter 3

**30 Reviews total, 62 followers. Thanks guys! Thanks to Zay for proofreading this chapter and giving me a lot of help as a result. :) **

He figured that, at least for a brief period of time, they could keep quiet about the whole situation, at least until they figured out what they were doing. However, the reoccurring morning sickness made that task difficult. On one morning about a week after Ziva told Tony that she was pregnant, she was having a particularly tough case, and when Gibbs asked where Ziva was, Tony barely stammered out a lie worth believing.

She even had to start wearing more makeup than she was used to, as her skin tone paled significantly, and would have been noticeable otherwise. Tony could still tell, but he knew it was probably just because he was giving her a lot more attention these days, if that was even possible. Each day, he waited for the subject to come up again, but time and time again, the day passed with the subject unspoken.

Late one night, when they were left in the squad room alone to finish paperwork, he found himself watching her. Gibbs and McGee were long gone, and she had been looking at him every few minutes since they had left, as if wanting to say something, but each time, she simply returned her attention to the computer in front of her or the paperwork on her desk.

Finally, she took a deep breath and spoke. "How long do you think we can keep this up?"

He had hesitated, eyes meeting hers, uncertainty in his voice when he spoke. "I honestly don't know, Ziva."

She'd chewed on her bottom lip thoughtfully for a moment and then nodded before gathering her things and getting up to leave.

"Ziva." He called once, but she was already at the elevator. He considered following her for a moment, but then decided against it because even if he did catch up to her, he wouldn't know what to say. He simply vowed to figure it out before he left, and try to fix things over a pizza.

He sighed, putting his head into his hands and wondering how in the world they were meant to handle this, because he had no earthly idea.

She was at about 7 weeks now, and she'd start gaining weight soon. As small as she was, that would be quickly noticed by her co-workers. They couldn't just keep acting like it wasn't there, but how were they supposed to tell people?

_"Hey, Gibbs. I know you have this rule against co-workers dating and everything, but rules are meant to be broken, right? So, hey, by the way, Ziva's pregnant, and it's my kid."_

He shook his head. There was absolutely no way to approach that delicately where his silver haired boss was concerned.

Abby might would understand. McGee probably would, too. Maybe. But the prospect of even bringing the subject up around them made him feel a little sick.

Realizing he would never figure out all of the answers sitting in a lonely room at seven in the evening, he called the nearest pizza place and placed an order, and then headed there to pick it up.

When he pulled up to her apartment building twenty minutes later, he waited in the car for a moment, trying to figure out the best way to apologize for upsetting her. Maybe simplicity would work best? He leaned his head against the steering wheel, feeling exhausted. He almost wished he could take the whole night back, but he knew that regardless of the consequences, he didn't wish that.

He didn't regret anything; she did.

When he finally made it to her apartment door after another ten minutes of contemplating, he hesitated only briefly before knocking once.

She opened the door, looking even paler than she had when she'd left work. She was wearing an old tank top and pajama pants, and she seemed to be just as exhausted as he was. When she saw him, she took enough of a step forward to lean against the doorframe. She didn't say anything, though, and so he lifted the pizza as a peace offering.

"Sorry."

"And?"

"And… we have to figure out what we're going to do, Ziva." He said, keeping his eyes on her face as she seemed to process his words.

Finally, she nodded, stepping back and opening the door for him, letting him in.

They still put off the topic of conversation for as long as humanly possible, keeping themselves occupied with Friends on the television and pizza to eat. Though he tried to keep himself from doing so, Tony found himself glancing over at her several times, noticing the anxiety that seemed to be radiating from her. When the last piece of pizza disappeared from the box, Tony turned toward her reluctantly, watching as her expression froze over.

"Ziva, we're on thinning ice here." He said, and she shrugged, looking down at her hands. "You were the one who asked what we're going to do, and we have to figure that out. We can't just keep acting like this isn't happening.

She shrugged again, looking away from him. "I know it is happening."

"Do you?" he asked, fighting to keep the sharpness out of his voice. "Because you're pretending pretty well that nothing's happening, if you ask me."

She stood and walked toward the kitchen, fists clenched. "I'm pregnant with your child, Tony. That is what is happening."

"Oh, okay. You do know what's happening." He said, standing and following her, trying to force away his growing agitation. "So what are you going to do about it?"

She turned around, and he was closer than she'd expected, because her torso collided with his. She took a step back, closing her eyes for a brief moment, collecting herself. "I don't know."

She opened her eyes, but didn't look at him. Instead, she crossed her arms over her chest and looked to her right at a random painting on the wall. Her lips were in a tight line, and she seemed to be chewing on the inside of her cheek.

He took a slow, deep breath, forcing himself to calm down. Getting mad and fighting with her definitely wasn't going to help them any. "Okay, well let's figure it out, because we can't just keep putting this conversation off. I mean, do… do you want to… have the kid?"

She looked at him then, eyes a little moist. "I…" she hesitated, then nodded once. "Yes."

He felt a strange rush of relief that surprised him. "Okay, well that leaves two options that I can see."

She nodded. "I… We keep the baby, or we give the baby up for adoption."

"Yeah." He said, pursing his lips. "What do you want to do?"

She shrugged in response once again, and he resisted the urge to tell her to stop doing that. "I don't know, Tony. I really don't. I… stopped picturing this opportunity for myself a while back, but now that the chance is here… I do not know if I want to simply… give it away."

Tony looked down at his hands, which were sitting in his lap, wondering if she knew the effect her words were having on him. He swallowed past the sudden lump in his throat and spoke softly. "Even if you're having a child with someone like me?"

He felt her eyes on him, but he couldn't muster up the courage to look at her in return.

"What do you mean by that?" Ziva asked, after a moment that he assumed was spent trying to get him to look at her.

He hesitated, self consciously playing with his fingers. "I mean, it's me, Ziva. Who in their right mind would want a kid with someone like me?" He tried to laugh his comment off as a joke, but his expression contradicted his attempt.

"Don't cut yourself so short. You're… you're not as bad of a person as you think you are." She said, her voice sounding as if she were talking to a confused child.

He sighed before putting his head in his hands, feeling defeated in more ways than one. "I'm really sorry."

He felt her hand on his knee, and he looked up at her. "It… This is not just your fault."

"Feels like it." He said bitterly, moving his knee from under her touch and returning his gaze to her carpet.

"It isn't." she said again with a sense of finality, but it didn't exactly reassure him. "Now, what are we going to do?"

"You're asking me now?" he asked, a little incredulously. "Well, I guess, first of all, you're going to see a doctor, and you're going to get all those stupid pills-"

"They're called prenatals, Tony." She interrupted, a smile lighting up her features. He felt his heart give a tug at the sight that already seemed a little foreign to him.

"Well, you're going to get them, and we're going to make sure you take care of yourself." He said pointedly, smirking.

She nodded. "Of course. Then what?"

"I guess… we try to decide who to tell first, because in a few more weeks, you'll tell on yourself." He said, casting a quick glance to her stomach. She let her hand rest just above her belly button, eyes clouded for a brief moment. Her finger absently traced a pattern where it rested.

"Who do we tell first?" She asked, removing her hand, pulling her knees up to her chin, and wrapping her arms around her bent legs.

"Gibbs? He'd be the first to figure it out, anyway, the way he is." Tony pointed out.

"How?" she squeezed her knees a little tighter, as if she were holding herself together.

Something in her voice shook him to his core more than he would have admitted, and he sighed. "I'll tell him, by myself. He might get mad to begin with, and if he's mad at anyone, it's going to be me, not you."

"Tony, you don't have to do that. I'm perfectly capable of handling Gibbs being angry with me, as well." She protested.

He dismissed her quickly with a wave of his hand. "No big deal. It's a man thing."

She glared at him for a moment and then sighed, deciding not to fight him. She rested her chin on her knees. "I'm tired."

He stood, stretching, and she did the same as he walked to the door. "I should… get home. It's late, and you need sleep." He paused to put on his jacket, shoving his hands into his pockets. "Uh, sorry, again."

She shrugged, crossing her arms over her stomach. "It's fine."

"I… I know this isn't… easy. His hands burrowed deeper into his pockets as he tried to find the right words to say. "But… I mean, we… we're gonna be okay, like always."

She nodded, hesitating before reaching out to him. Her small arms wrapped around his frame, and she nestled her head underneath his chin. He responded, wrapping his arms around her. Something about the intimate motion felt easy, and though he automatically questioned why, he quickly pushed the thoughts aside.

"Don't worry about anything, because we'll figure it all out. Promise. Everything's going to be okay." He whispered into her hair, finding that words were much easier when he wasn't avoiding her gaze. He closed his eyes briefly in a silent prayer that his words were true, because letting her down this time wasn't an option he could afford.

"Thank you." She mumbled into his neck, before letting him go. "Sleep well."

He reached up to tousle her hair, satisfied when a smile lit up her tired features. "Yeah." He smiled in return. "You, too."


	4. Chapter 4

**44 reviews and 89 followers now, so thanks guys! I'm trying to put off posting chapters until I get more written, just because I only have through chapter 6 written right now because its the end of the semester and things are getting crazy. Anyway, hope you enjoy this chapter! :) **

Two nights later, Tony finally decided that he needed to tell Gibbs of their predicament sooner rather than later, because he knew it was only a matter of time until Ziva started showing. Her jeans that usually fit perfectly were already becoming a little snug, and soon, they would no longer have the option of doing things the easier way.

His stomach had been tight the whole day, and the only thing he'd eaten was a bowl of cereal that morning and a chocolate bar at lunch time, and that was only because he'd forced himself.

When he walked into Ziva's apartment that night, he tried to ignore how messy it seemed to be becoming and greeted her with a smile. "You feeling okay today?"

She shrugged, making a face. She was wearing an oversized t-shirt that went to half way down her thighs, and her hair was pulled into a messy bun at the back of her neck. "Yes, I suppose so. I just took some of the medicine the doctor prescribed for nausea, so I'm fine as far as that is concerned."

"Good. Well, I brought you some food, if you're feeling well enough to eat." He offered the bag in his hand to her.

"I said earlier that I wanted Chinese." Her voice was soft, and she seemed a little bewildered. "I didn't think anybody heard me."

"Oh." He felt his cheeks flush slightly, but he shrugged nonchalantly, holding the bag out even further. "Well, I did. So… yeah. Here."

"Thank you. The medicine has kicked in pretty well, and it smells amazing." She took the bag from him, taking an appreciative sniff before smiling widely at him.

"It's no problem." He smiled back, and then sat down on her couch, elbows on his knees. He automatically started playing with his fingers, an action he'd noticed himself doing a lot of lately.

"Are you still going to tell Gibbs tonight?" she asked, walking into the kitchen.

"I…" he hesitated. "Yeah. I'm going to try, anyway. Little… nervous, though."

He felt her sit down beside him, but he was looking at the floor. "That is understandable." She paused. "Are you sure you don't want me to go with you?"

He sighed, tempted. Gibbs would be sure to go a little easier on him if Ziva was with him, wouldn't he? He had been pretty gentle with her for quite some time. If she went with him, they could take the force of whatever happened together, and it wouldn't just be on him. However, he wasn't sure he wanted her to have to take any of it at all.

He shook his head finally, deciding against it. "No, I'm going. You're staying here. Eat, sleep, all that stuff."

"I'm not a child, Tony. I'm pregnant." She argued, and he could feel her glaring at him.

He still wasn't used to hearing the word "pregnant" every time he turned around, and winced before he'd realized it. "I know that." He dismissed quickly. "Anyway, I'm going to go see Gibbs, and tell him that you're… what I have to tell him, and then hope he doesn't shoot me."

He looked up at her, and her expression quickly changed to concerned. "He would not do that."

"I guess you're right." He replied, standing. "But still, he's Gibbs."

"True." She said, pausing in her task to pull out her food to look up at him, a look resembling sympathy etched into her features.

Before Tony realized he was doing so, he leaned down, holding a hand to the back of her neck and pressing a kiss to her head. He froze for a brief moment, wondering where that had come from and second guessing himself because he'd just kissed her on her head, and they didn't do things like that. _Just because she's having your kid doesn't mean anything other than that,_ he scolded himself, pulling away from her and speaking quickly."Don't worry about me, okay? Eat, take your vitamins, and get some sleep. You have a baby to take care of."

He turned then and headed to the door with long strides, the room suddenly feeling stuffier.

"Okay." She said, her voice resigned. Whether it be because she was just as thrown by his actions as he was, or she was still upset about being treated like a child, he wasn't sure."Good luck."

He stopped, his hand on the doorknob, turning back to her and pushing his feelings aside long enough to give her a small smile. "Yeah, thanks. I'm going to need it."

He didn't know how long he'd been standing at the top of the stairs, watching Gibbs sandpaper a piece of wood, contemplating how easily he'd pressed his lips to Ziva's hair, but eventually, Gibbs spoke and pulled him out of his thoughts.

"You just going to stand there and stare all night, DiNozzo?"

He swallowed, slowly beginning his walk down the stairs. "Hey." He said conversationally, hoping his fear would not show through.

"What's bothering you?" Gibbs didn't look up from where he was, and Tony sighed, rejecting the almost automatic urge to deny that anything was bothering him.

"I need to talk to you, Gibbs." Tony said, voice firm despite the fact that internally he was scared senseless.

There was a brief silence as Gibbs got to a stopping point on whatever he was doing and put up his materials. Then, he sat down in a chair and looked at him. "Okay. What's up, DiNozzo?"

Tony felt his throat close up as all the fears he'd conjured up over the past few weeks rose up again. "Please don't hate me." He whispered painfully, wishing with everything in him that Gibbs would understand.

"Tony." The tone in which Gibbs spoke surprised him almost as much as the sound of hearing his first name coming from his mouth. "I don't know what this is about, but I can almost guarantee I won't hate you."

He took a deep breath, and then looked up. "Well, it's… uh…" He swallowed with some difficulty, feeling more anxious as each second passed. "It's… Ziva."

Gibbs tilted his head slightly, and Tony could see his wheels turning already. "What about her?" His voice was still completely calm, and Tony fought the want to get up and walk right back out the door.

"Well…" He hesitated, the words sticking in his dry throat. "We… We messed up."

There was a pause as Gibbs seemed to process the information he'd been given, and then his head tilted again. "When?"

Tony scratched the back of his neck, his eyes finding refuge on the random construction in the middle of the room. "Uh, after we… the serial killer case."

The poker face shifted a little. "I have rules against that."

"I know." Tony winced, feeling nauseous. He wondered if he should have taken some of Ziva's medicine before he came, or if it would have helped. Hell, he didn't know.

"So, why are you telling me? You want me to get pissed at you?" Gibbs asked, face incredulous.

"I wouldn't have, boss, but…" Tony swallowed, taking a deep breath. "She's… she's pregnant." He finally said, and then his mouth was running faster than his brain could keep up. "And I know that there's rules against it, and I know you're going to be pissed, but I don't know what I'm supposed to do here, and I figured you would find out eventually so I should just go ahead and tell you, and…" He trailed off, trying to calm his racing heart. "I can't do this."

There was a long silence that fell between them, . He heard him stand, but didn't register the fact that he was standing next to him until he felt the familiar sting of a head slap on the back of his head.

He looked at him then, but found it difficult to maintain eye contact. "I'm sorry." He said quietly, but Gibbs shook his head.

"People make mistakes, DiNozzo." Tony internally winced at his choice of words, but he quickly buried his emotions that were dug up as a result. "But there's nothing you can do about it now, but take responsibility for what you did and deal with it. You need to stop freaking out and saying you can't do this, because if you keep that up, I'll wind up killing you. You can do this, and even if you can't, you don't have a choice. You got yourself into this, and now you're going to do what you're supposed to do."

Tony frowned, looking down. "You're mad at me."

Gibbs sighed. "Yeah, DiNozzo. I'm sort of pissed, but being angry at you over it isn't going to help anything, so I guess I'll get over it."

Tony looked down at his hands, searching for words and failing to find any other than more apologies.

"Now, go, before I change my mind about killing you."

"Right, boss." Tony said, before jogging back up the stairs. At the top, he stopped, turning back to see Gibbs looking at him with an eyebrow raised. "Uh, t-thank you."

He ran out then, not waiting to see how Gibbs would respond to that. There was a part of him that wanted to see Ziva, and tell her how things had went, but he had told her to go to sleep, and she probably had done so. So he wouldn't bother her.

Not tonight.

"He wasn't mad?"

Tony hesitated, twirling a piece of popcorn between his fingers absentmindedly. "Oh, yeah, he was mad, but I think he loves us more than he hates us for breaking his rules."

Ziva pursed her lips, focusing for a moment on the movie playing in front of her. "I hope it stays that way."

"Me, too." He agreed.

"You know, technically, his rule says not to date co-workers, and we aren't dating, so we didn't actually break his rule." Ziva said, grinning a little in an attempt to make him smile.

He felt a sharp stab in his chest and forced a smile that he knew had to look as fake as it was. "Yeah. Guess you're right. You tell Abby yet?" He asked, quickly changing the subject before she could ask him what was wrong.

She shook her head. "No, I'm going to Monday at work. You're welcome to come if you want."

"You don't sound too thrilled about that." He pointed out with a small smile. Even through the few changes they'd already experienced, she was still Ziva, and he was grateful that at least that had stayed the same so far.

She made a face. "Because I am not, really. She will make a big fuss about things."

Tony nodded, and a silence fell as they absentmindedly finished their food. "So…" Tony said after a moment. "When do you find out whether it's a boy or a girl?"

She looked over at him, expression clouding over in a way he couldn't describe.

"What is it?" He asked, eyeing her curiously.

"It's just… I did not expect to be thinking of these things right now. I had nearly given up on the idea of having children, and now here I am, talking to my baby's father about when I find out the gender of our baby." She paused, looking away from him. The hand on her knee started playing with the fabric of her pajamas. "I think… I think I'm still getting used to everything. Or maybe I just miss my life being predominantly predictable."

He laughed a quick, slightly bitter laugh, putting his bowl of popcorn remnants to the side. "Well… that's the thing: A baby changes everything, and I think that we just have to come to terms with the fact that from this point on, everything is changeable and unpredictable."

She looked over at him for a long moment, not saying anything. Then, slowly, she nodded. "I guess you're right." A small pause lingered between them, and then she spoke again. "I find out in about a month."

He nodded, briefly allowing himself to picture a little girl, all dressed in pink.. He repressed the image and the rush of mixed feelings that came alone with it before looking at her and asking, "What do you think it's going to be?"

She looked down at her still nearly flat stomach. She pursed her lips, and her hand twitched as if she were going to put it over her stomach, but then didn't. "I think it's a girl." She said finally, her voice soft. "Yeah. A girl."

She did put her hand on her stomach then, and her expression changed to something he didn't recognize. He watched her run her hand over the practically non-existent bump in between her hips, and then he had to look away, because this was all getting a little too real, and if it had been anyone else at any other time, that would have been the moment he did what he always did when things got real: Run.

But it wasn't anyone else. It was Ziva. _His_ Ziva. The Ziva who he knew everything about and who knew everything about him. The Ziva that had been with him through a hell of a lot of tough times, and he'd done the same for her. This time, he knew, was no exception.

And so he knew that this time, running scared wasn't an option. This time, no matter how things went or what happened or how real things got, he had to stay.


	5. Chapter 5

**56 reviews, 109 followers. Thank guys! sorry for the delay, I had a family member die on Sunday and wanted to get a little farther ahead of what I've posted. I'm done with the rough draft of chapter 7 now, and I'll probably revise it today or tomorrow, then start on 8. I did lay out basically the rest of the story, though. So progress is being made. Anyway, why am I still talking? You're here to read this chapter. Carry on. **

The next day, when Ziva told Tony she was about to go attempt to tell Abby their news, he promptly offered to go get her lunch, and so he found himself buying hamburgers across the yard from the building. He sighed, surveying the line in front of him and noting that it would be another ten minutes before he got to the front.

He cast a quick look toward the front of the building, which hadn't seemed the same since the bomb fiasco last year. He could vaguely see Abby's lab window, and he wondered how Ziva was doing. He felt a little guilty about making her face Abby alone, but figured it was only fair after he'd done the same with Gibbs.

He actually hadn't even talked to or seen Gibbs since two nights ago, when he'd told him their news. He still winced every time he thought about how he'd awkwardly stumbled over his words, looking like an idiot. Part of him wished he could have another chance at pleading his case, because he knew his boss was angry with him, but he knew that Gibbs would have been angry regardless of how he'd been told the news.

_"People make mistakes"_ played through his head over and over, and he felt a rush of anger each time. It wasn't a mistake to him, but everyone kept insisting on calling it that, and there wasn't anything he could do about it. He guessed he could sit down and bring the conversation up to Ziva, but she was so adamantly calling it a mistake that he dreaded even the thought of how that conversation would play out.

So, as much as it pained him, the conversation would continue to go untouched, just like so many others.

* * *

"Abby!" Ziva yelled over the music in the lab.

Abby turned, reaching to lower the volume on her radio. "Hey! I haven't gotten anything on the case yet, but I'm actually running a partial right now and-"

"Abby!" She interrupted, smiling. "I'm not here for the case."

"Oh." she stated simply. "What is it then?"

"I have... something to tell you." Ziva said, her heart pounding. She suddenly felt greatful to Tony that he had done this with Gibbs.

"Okay. I'm all ears."

"Well... I... I'm going to... have a baby, Abby."

Abby's eyes widened, and she squealed, hugging her. "Oh my goodness! That's amazing! When? I didn't even know you were dating someone again! Who is it?"

Ziva hugged her back and spoke quickly, hoping she could finish before having to look at Abby again. "Well, actually, Tony and I... slept together after the serial killer case and he's the father."

Abby pulled back, looking disappointed. "Something about the way you said that makes me think that you aren't together."

"Right." Ziva said, shrugging and looking at the wall to her left, wringing her hands together.

She pursed her lips for a long moment, not speaking, until finally, she smiled. "It's okay. A baby is still a baby. What color do you want to paint his or her room?"

* * *

Finally getting to the front of the line, Tony ordered two hamburgers, paid for them, and then stopped by the break room on his way back to get two drinks before heading back to the squad room, empty except for his partner.

"So how'd she take it?" he asked, handing her one of the two hamburgers he had.

She made a face. "She started talking about wallpaper colors."

He pictured Ziva and Abby picking out paint colors, shuddered, and then pushed the images out of his mind. "How'd you tell her?"

"I just... I just told her. I told her I had something to tell her, and then I just... said it." She said, shrugging.

"Said what?" McGee asked as he walked in, his own lunch in his hand. "If I had known you were going to get hamburgers, Tony, I would have asked you to get me one."

Tony shrugged, handing Ziva her drink as well. "Sorry, Probie. Taking care of Ziva." He said absentmindedly, separating the stack of napkins he had and giving Ziva half of them.

McGee's face scrunched up strangely in confusion as he took a bite of his machine sandwich. "Why?"

"She's having his baby, McGee. Keep up." Gibbs said as he entered the room, a vending machine sandwich and coffee in his hands. Tony and Ziva looked at each other, eyes widening.

McGee's eyes widened, too, and for the next few moments, he attempted to recover from nearly choking on his food. "What?" He asked as soon as he could speak again, coughing a few more times.

"Yeah, Probie. Keep up." Tony tried to shrug off of his shoulders as he sat down at his desk with his own meal. He looked over at Gibbs, who was staring at Ziva, and for a brief moment, that made him slightly uncomfortable, and he looked at McGee, whose eyes were wide and confused.

"You doing okay, Ziver?" Gibbs asked, his voice unusually soft. "DiNozzo taking care of you?"

She nodded, looking down, her cheeks turning a light shade of pink. "Yes, Gibbs. I am perfectly fine."

Gibbs nodded. "You tell me the second he doesn't take care of you, okay?"

A small smile pulled up the corners of her mouth, and Tony admired the way it lit up her face. "I will."

"Hey, I thought you're on my side." Tony said, grinning at her, still entranced by the glow on her face that he hadn't ever seen before. She rolled her eyes at him playfully, and he felt his heart give a tug at the almost forgotten sight.

"Wait a second, let me catch up!" McGee broke in, voice a little louder than necessary. "So are you two together now?"

Tony's entire body froze at the question, and his eyes flicked to Ziva. Her own eyes were wide, but when she didn't say anything, he spoke.

"No." he said stiffly, looking right into her eyes. "We just made a little mistake. Right, Ziva?" His voice held more bitterness than he'd intended, and she pursed her lips, obviously hurt.

"DiNozzo." Gibbs shot him a glare, and he sighed.

"Sorry."

"Don't be." Her eyes narrowed. "You are right. It was just a little mistake."

Tony closed his eyes against her words and nodded, mouth shut tight, suddenly feeling angry despite knowing that he was the one who'd brought up the subject that was so unbelievably sore to him. He stood, his chair hitting the wall behind his desk with a loud bang. "Be back later." He nearly spat, walking to the elevator, not once looking back to see what he'd left behind.

* * *

He found himself sitting on a bench near a hot dog vender, listening to the random sounds of the lunch time crowd. Voices scattered around him were strangely comforting, and he found that people watching was a decent distraction.

For five minutes, he tried to piece together the life story of a woman on her phone who looked disheveled and stressed. Her phone was nice, but it had one crack on the back, so she'd dropped it once. He assumed she was an overachiever with a little bit too much on her plate. She had a ring on her right hand, so he gathered that she had a serious boyfriend, but not serious enough to ask her to marry him… yet. She wasn't him, though, so he was sure that eventually, she would be able to marry whoever the hell he was.

After a moment of trying to find someone who might offer a more interesting story, a couple pushing a baby in a stroller came by where he sat and he looked away, fighting the bitter taste in his mouth that the happy picture gave him.

He guessed that it shouldn't make him feel that way. He supposed that he should be thrilled and ready to welcome his child into the world, but when that cruel world kept reminding him that the child was created because of a mistake that he didn't want to be a mistake, it was difficult to be cheerful.

"Are you mad at me?"

Ziva's voice shocked him out of his thoughts. He honestly hadn't expected her to follow him outside, especially after how he'd snapped at her. He took a moment, and then sighed, resting his chin on his intertwined fingers and focusing on an older man standing in line at the hot dog vender. "You know I can't stay mad at you." He said simply and honestly, voice slightly muffled by his fingers.

"But you were mad at me?" she asks again, voice slightly more persistent.

He sat up, running a hand through his hair. Her questions were getting to him, and just like he'd told her, he suddenly found that he wasn't mad at her at all. He knew that fact should have irritated him, but he couldn't find any of his earlier anger. Instead, his head hurt and he felt more mentally exhausted than he ever had.

"I…" He paused, looking at a small child chase a dog not too far from where they spoke. A laugh escaped his throat as the dog collapsed on the ground and rolled over. "I'm terrified, Ziva. I'm absolutely terrified. I don't know how to be a dad, but I'm going to be. I don't know how to be a father, but even if I did, I don't know if I'm even going to get the opportunity to try. All this uncertainty scares the hell out of me, Ziva."

He looked back at her, and she was looking down at her feet. He found his eyes travelling to her stomach. The bump there would go unnoticed by the passing stranger, but not to someone who knew Ziva well enough to know that she probably hadn't gained a pound since she was 17.

He looked away, feeling the urge to run again and shoving it back into the darker part of his thoughts where it belonged. He felt her sit down beside him, but he didn't look at her.

"I am scared, too, Tony."

Her voice is soft, and childlike, and he fights the urge to take her into his arms and hold her tightly the way he wants to.

He knows that wouldn't be appropriate.

A long silence passed between them, and he could almost feel the raw emotions threatening the thin balance they'd formed with each other over the years. It had taken nearly four years to get things back to their normal after he'd brought her home from Somalia, and now it was all crumbling around him, and he wasn't sure if he should just let it fall, or fight to maintain it despite how hopeless that seemed.

He was afraid that if it fell, he'd never be able to fix it again.

She was still being indifferent toward what happened between them, and it was still a mistake, and he hated that. She was having his kid, and he wanted to run as far away as he could, but he knew he couldn't.

He knew the two different sides would clash a lot over the next few months, but he also knew it didn't matter. He had to be there for her, because he'd promised he always would be. So, pushing his own emotions aside, he damned the consequences for his heart and turned to look at her.

God, she did look scared.

"Well…" he began, searching for the right words. "I guess if we're going to be scared out of our minds, at least we can be scared... together." He said, hoping his voice was reassuring. She nodded.

"I suppose you are right." She hesitated, obviously trying to decide whether or not to say something. "Tony, about what you said earlier-"

"Stop." He cut her off, closing his eyes as if he could stop her words by doing so. He swallowed, opening them slowly, but not looking at her. "Don't worry about it. It's not important. Okay?" He tried to smile reassuringly at her.

Then, not wanting to wait around for her to try arguing with him, he stood and walked back toward the office building. He was tempted a few times to look back, and see exactly how she'd taken his dismissive words, but he resisted.

He knew that would only hurt him in the end.


	6. Chapter 6

**65 reviews, 118 follows. Every chapter I get more, and I'm super grateful that you guys still like this story. This is a chapter, by the way, that was sent to three or four different people just because I was going through a time of second guessing my writing, so I let a few people proof read it for me. And I feel much better now.**

**Anyway, hope you like it. It's a tad on the short side, and by that I mean its just under 1900 words. But carry on. :) **

There was a reoccurring nightmare Tony had every once in a while since he'd found out Ziva was pregnant, and as the weeks went by, it occurred more and more often. In the dream, Ziva came up to him with her stomach swelled to the point she looked as if she was about to pop. She looked at him every time and said something. Each time it was different, but each time it was a positive statement. Once she would tell him that she was happy to have him, and in one, she would tell him how excited she was to have the baby. Then, suddenly, she was back to her normal size, with the deadest look in her eyes, and she would turn and walk away from him.

Each time, there wasn't a child to be seen anywhere, and if the dream ever continued past that, all he could remember was Ziva sitting across from him, a blank, almost lifeless look on her face.

Every time he woke up from this dream, he was shaking and it usually took a few hours to get the feeling of dread to leave him alone enough to go back to sleep. So he would get up and go sit on his couch, staring blankly at a random movie until he could get the images out of his head.

Except they were never completely gone.

They haunted him to the point that it took him longer to fall asleep at night, and some nights he would wake up so often that any sleep he did get wasn't worth it.

He wondered if everyone could tell that he wasn't getting nearly as much sleep as he needed, but most days he figured nobody was paying him enough attention to notice. Everyone was giving any extra attention they had to Ziva as the bump between her hips started to become more and more noticeable.

Most of them barely even knew her, and it made him feel sick to see them asking her twenty questions as if they cared, when all they really cared about was the fact that there was something new to talk about.

"When do you find out what you're having?" Samantha from Human Resources asked, eyes wide. He held back a scoff and tried to focus on playing Solitaire.

"Uh, I have an appointment next week. If he or she cooperates, they should be able to tell then." She replied, smiling kindly.

A small gasp of excitement escaped the older woman, and she put her hands to her heart. "That is so wonderful."

Solitaire didn't exactly work out, so, closing the game, he put on his best fake smile. "Hey, Ziva, I'm about to head down to Abby's lab to see if she has anything on the case. Want to come with me?" he asked before Samantha had the opportunity to open her mouth again. He stood and walked toward her desk, begging her mentally to say yes.

Ziva looked at him like she wanted to turn down his request, but something in his eyes must have convinced her otherwise, because she told Samantha goodbye and followed Tony to the elevator.

"What was that about?" she asked once they were inside the steel walls and heading down to Abby's lab.

"Nothing." He shrugged, staring at the lit up number on the elevator wall intently.

"You are lying." She accused, and he shrugged again.

"It's just... I mean all those people who barely know you asking so many questions... Do you really think they care?" He asked, feeling like a jerk as soon as the words had left his mouth.

He narrowed his eyes at the elevator wall as she responded slowly. "It is nice to believe that they do."

He nodded once, swallowing any other words that he wanted to say. He wasn't in the mood to argue with her about anything today. Thankfully, the elevator reached their desired floor, and Ziva stepped off before him. It took him a moment to follow her, though, because the view he had from behind her was exactly the one he'd been seeing in his nightmares.

He was standing at his kitchen counter eating a sandwich that night when his phone rang, and he picked it up without looking at the caller ID, already knowing who it was.

"Hey, need something?" he asked, holding the phone with his shoulder in order to open his refrigerator door and grab a soda. He opened it, taking a sip.

"What did you mean by what you said today in the elevator?" she asked pointedly.

He cursed under his breath, because he'd hoped she would just drop it. He put the soda on the counter, sighing. "Nothing, Ziva. I was just... mad."

"Why were you mad?" She asked, persistent.

"Does it matter?" he retorted, taking another sip of his Coke. It suddenly didn't taste as good.

"Yes, why wouldn't it matter?" she snapped in return, and he could visualize her narrowing her eyes.

He paused, biting the inside of his cheek and taking a deep breath. "Because… it just doesn't matter. I was mad, but I'm not now. Case closed."

"Are you jealous of all the attention?" she inquired.

He scoffed more loudly than necessary. "Hell, no. I'm just sick and tired of all those people acting like they care about you when they probably couldn't care less. They just all drop 100 IQ points when babies are mentioned."

He closed his eyes, mentally kicking himself.

"Oh."

He slapped his hand to his forehead, rubbing circles into the skin there, feeling the beginning of a headache. "Sorry. I didn't mean to say that."

"It is what you think. No need to apologize." She said, her voice suddenly resigned.

"No, there is. I didn't mean to upset you, okay? I'm sorry." He apologized, leaning his head against his kitchen cabinet, willing the ever growing pain in his head to go away.

"You shouldn't worry so much about upsetting me." Her voice raised an octave.

He rolled his eyes, lifting his head and walking over to the cabinet he knew held Tylenol. "If you say so. Have you taken your medicine tonight?"

"Are you trying to change the subject?" Another octave higher. He pushed a bottle of Nyquil out of the way to reach the Tylenol bottle behind it.

"Actually, yes, Ziva, because I am not in the mood to argue with you tonight." He sighed, opening the Tylenol bottle with one hand and shaking out three pills.

"You have never tried to avoid arguments before." She snapped, accusing.

He groaned. "Not that you've realized, anyway." He said, already knowing it would earn him a harsh response.

"What is that supposed to mean?"

Yeah, he'd been right about that one.

"Nothing, Ziva!" He exclaimed, wincing at the sharp pain in his head. "I am trying to avoid arguing with you, okay? No matter what the reasons behind it is, that's what I'm trying to do here. Why can't you just accept that and stop trying to pick a fight with me?" he tossed the pills in his mouth and swallowed them with a swig of soda.

The other end of the line was silent for a long moment, and when she spoke, her voice was chilled, and lower than her normal tone. "Why do you insist on treating me like a child just because I am having yours?"

He put his forehead back against his cabinet, a little harder than necessary. He winced, picking his head back up. "I'm not treating you like a child."

"Yes, you are." An octave higher again.

"You're going to drive me to drink, Ziva." He whispered, walking into the living room and collapsing on his couch.

"You're treating me like a child!" she fumed. "I do not need you to avoid telling me what you think because you do not want to upset me! I do not need you to try to avoid arguments with me, and I definitely do not need you to remind me to take my medicine! The fact that I am pregnant does not make me fragile or forgetful or dependant on anyone. I do not appreciate being treated like a child just because I am having one!"

Great. She was pissed now.

"Maybe I'm just being protective of you! Have you ever even considered that possibility, or do you just assume that I'm trying to make your life miserable or something? I actually do care about you, you know." He retorted, wishing the Tylenol would hurry up and take effect.

"Are you suggesting that I don't care for you?" she questioned, and he could picture her pacing her living room.

He opened his mouth to snap back at her, but paused. "You're going to be mad at me no matter what I say, apparently. So what does it matter?"

She didn't say anything, and he assumed that she was taking a moment to think about what she wanted to say. He took the opportunity to breathe deeply through his nose, and finally, his headache started to lessen. He sighed in relief, but then paused.

The line was too quiet.

"Ziva?" he asked once, even though he knew that he was no longer on the phone with anyone. He pulled the phone away from his ear, and his suspicions were confirmed.

She'd hung up on him.

"Ah, damn." He redialed her number, listening as it rang and rang. It went to voicemail, and the next two calls he made did the exact same thing.

He thought back to the last thing he'd said to her, about insinuating that she didn't care for him. He could understand why that had upset her, but he'd been angry and hadn't thought about the effect his words might have. He knew she cared about him, too. She just didn't care for him in the same ways that he cared about her, and that, he decided, was ultimately what caused him to snap at her like that. She just treated him as if it were only a friendship, which was what he was to her, he supposed.

Which, if one was to reference the growing being inside of her, it would obvious that the label of "friendship" wasn't exactly accurate. It went deeper than that, apparently.

Unless it was just a mistake.

He groaned, walking into his bedroom, throwing his phone on the floor blindly and collapsing on his bed face down. He stayed like that for a few minutes, feeling more exhausted than he had before their entire conversation. Finally, he got back up, retrieving his phone from under his nightstand, only to pull up her contact information and stare blankly at it.

He supposed he could text her, and apologize for being inconsiderate, if that was what his comments had been considered. He decided against it after a moment, plugging his phone into its charger and then climbing into his bed, which felt unusually cold. He laid there for a long time staring at his ceiling, feeling guilty.

He hadn't meant to snap at her.

He hadn't meant to hurt her feelings.

After a while, he finally turned onto his side and closed his eyes, already knowing that he wouldn't be able to sleep tonight without getting a visit from his nightmare.


	7. Chapter 7

**Thanks for the follows and reviews, guys! **

**Just throwing this out here: There isn't that much of Ziva's thoughts put into this story because her thoughts are very crucial to how all of this turns out, and I don't want to give too much away too soon. That's why a large majority is just Tony's side. **

**Anyway, hope you enjoy this one! :) **

* * *

When Tony woke the next morning after a nearly restless night, the first thing he did was look at his phone to see if any of his calls had possibly been returned. When he saw that none of them had, he sighed, taking his phone off the charger and walking into the kitchen.

She hadn't tried to call back, so she was most likely still pissed at him. He could understand that, though. Their argument from the night before played over and over in his mind, and each time he winced at the way he'd snapped at her.

Everything around them was entirely too stressful, but each day, the stress didn't lessen. It only got worse. And each day that it got worse, Tony feared that this baby was going to ruin them, tear them apart from each other and crumble the relationship that he'd loved having with her.

If that happened before she had the baby, he knew it would mean giving the baby up. If something happened in the midst of all this that destroyed that delicate bond they had, she wouldn't want to keep a baby that was his. He wouldn't get the chance to see if he could be a parent. She wouldn't, either, and he knew she'd been wanting children for a while, but she'd pushed the desires into the back of her mind after Ray had ruined her hopes of having a family.

Hell, he didn't even know if _he_ was capable of being a parent. It wasn't like he'd been shown how by his own father. He was so messed up from his childhood that he would probably ruin his own child's if given the chance.

But that wasn't for sure, was it?

Maybe Gibbs had showed him enough over the years to make him a good parent. Was that even how it worked? Did you learn how to be a parent, or is it one of the tendencies you're born with? Was it a little of both?

No matter how long he turned the never-ending list of questions over in his mind, he didn't know.

He threw some Pop-Tarts into the toaster, trying to think of a way to apologize to Ziva for last night. He could simply apologize, but after what he had said, he wasn't sure if that would be enough. He racked his brain for any options that he could conjure up, but couldn't think of anything that he could put money on. The Pop-Tarts didn't taste well, so he threw them away and headed to work, already feeling the weight of the day on his shoulders.

Ziva wasn't there yet when he stepped off of the elevator, but McGee was sitting in his desk, doing something at his computer. Gibbs was also nowhere to be seen.

"Hey, Probie." He greeted simply, putting his stuff down. "I forgot to make coffee this morning, so I'm going to go grab a cup from the break room."

McGee nodded, but then spoke, stopping Tony midstep. "Hey, Tony?"

He turned back to face him. "Yeah?"

"What are you and Ziva going to do?"

He opened his mouth to retort that it wasn't any of his business, but stopped himself. He didn't need McGee upset with him, too. "I... I honestly don't know, McGee... I wish... I really wish I did, but I don't."

McGee nodded, again, seeming to understand. "Sorry."

Tony shrugged. "Yeah. I'll be right back."

He offered him a quick smile and continued his walk to the break room, almost wishing that he could obtain a life threatening illness so he wouldn't have to stay at work today.

Ziva had never felt more exhausted in her life. Though she'd been blessed with a morning void of nausea, she still felt terrible after the previous night's events. If there was one thing she hated, it was being treated like a child, and whether Tony realized it or not, he was doing exactly that.

Maybe he was right, and he simply was trying to help, but it didn't change the irritation she felt every time he asked her if she had taken her medicine or tried to avoid hurting her feelings. She was still the same Ziva, and she didn't appreciate being treated differently, especially by him, even if it was his child she was having.

_Their_ child, she corrected herself.

Coming to terms with the fact that she was having her partner's child was still a work in progress. She acknowledged it, yes, but part of her still tried to remain in denial, no matter how impossible that task turned out to be, simply because their relationship was already dysfunctional enough. She hated to think about what, inevitably, having a child would do to that relationship.

Which was probably one reason why him treating her differently upset her. It wasn't because she didn't want to be treated like she was having a child, but she didn't want to be treated as if she was having _his _child, because that offered the possibility of ruining everything they'd built over the years.

But it was unavoidable, because there wasn't anything she could do to change it. She was going to have his child, and what she did past that was... tricky.

At the beginning of it all, they had concluded that there were only two distinct options, but they had been so wrong. There was so much gray area that offered uncertainty, but either he didn't realize that, or he was just as terrified as she was to bring it up.

Everything around them seemed to be crumbling, and all because they'd had one night with each other that probably shouldn't have happened. The relationship they'd built for so long was falling apart, all because they'd slipped up after a tough case.

When she got to work that morning and sat at her desk, she saw that the room was empty. However, Tony's bag was at his desk, so she knew he was there. A moment later, she heard footsteps approaching her, and suddenly, a cup of coffee was placed in front of her.

He shrugged, his eyes pleading for forgiveness. "You look like you could use it."

She pursed her lips, looking back to the cup of coffee after realizing that it was the only cup he had. "You do, too."

"Look," he began, looking down at his feet. "I know it doesn't make up for anything, but I'm ... I'm sorry for last night. I just don't want you to... I just don't want you to wind up getting upset when all those people get bored with the newest gossip of the office."

She sighed, placing her hands around the cup of coffee, despite knowing that the caffeine wasn't good for her. However, the warmth it offered her hands was pleasant. "I know eventually they will get bored, but until then, what does it hurt if they ask questions? Would you rather me be rude to the entire floor?" she asked, looking back up at him, hoping he would understand.

He put his hands in his pockets. "I guess not."

"I... I am sorry, too. I understand that you're concerned, but I can still take care of myself. However, if the time comes when I cannot, you will be the first person I tell. Promise." She said, putting on the most convincing smile she could muster.

He finally met her eyes, and she felt a small rush of relief. "Gotcha. Can I ask how you're doing this morning?"

"I am.." She hesitated. "I'm fine." She told him, looking back at the coffee in front of her. "I really probably shouldn't drink this. The caffeine isn't very good for me."

He smirked at her. "A little won't hurt. We can share it." He suggested, shrugging.

"Well pour her some into a cup, DiNozzo. Got a dead body and I need you with me." Gibbs said as he walked in, McGee right behind him.

Ziva stood, reaching to grab her gear, but Gibbs shook his head at her. "Sorry, Ziver. You're staying here."

She sighed, plopping back down in her seat, and glaring at her computer. Gibbs, Tony, and McGee grabbed their things, but Tony waited back a minute.

"Hey, don't pout." he told her, and she could tell by his tone that he was still unsure about something. "You'll get plenty of time to explain your scandalous pregnancy to every woman on our floor."

She looked up at him quickly, but then realized he was kidding and rolled her eyes. "Not funny."

He shrugged apologetically. "Sorry. See you in a bit. And... " he took a step but stopped, hesitating. "We're okay?"

So _that_ was what he was so unsure about. She smiled the most reassuring smile she could manage, nodding. "Yes. We're okay. Go. McGee and Gibbs will be angry if you make them wait any longer."

He reached up to tousle her hair quickly as he walked past, but something about the touch she'd always loved suddenly felt wrong. As he walked to the elevator, she sighed at the bounce that seemed to be back in his step. She could bet that he thought everything was going to work out perfectly, and that made her heart lurch painfully, because out of everything in the world she hated doing, disappointing him was at the top of her list.

That was what hurt the most though. She felt that no matter what happened where the baby was concerned, somehow, she would still wind up disappointing him.

When Tony offered to drive Ziva to the appointment that was supposed to tell them the gender of their baby, he wasn't sure if it was out of kindness or the fact that he really wanted to know. He supposed that yes, he did want to know if it was a boy or a girl, but if she was going to give the baby away, then would that just give him an emotional attachment he wasn't prepared for?

He hadn't seen a single sonogram yet. Ziva hadn't offered to show him any, and he hadn't asked. They also hadn't revisited the options for when the baby actually arrived, either. She hadn't given him any indication that she did or did not want to keep the baby once he or she was born, and he'd been terrified to bring it up.

He glanced over at her where she sat in his passenger seat. It had officially gotten to the point where whether or not she was pregnant was unarguable. She had her hand resting on the bump on her abdomen, and she was tapping her index finger to the rhythm of the music coming from his radio.

He swallowed, trying to conjure up a way to approach the subject indirectly. "So..." he began, stopping at a red light. "Are you excited?"

She looked over at him briefly. "I suppose so."

"You suppose so?" he raised an eyebrow at her, feeling the sense of dread he'd become accustomed to feeling late at night after having one of his nightmares.

She shrugged. "Yeah, I suppose so."

He opened his mouth, but then snapped it shut to think about another angle to the burning question in his mind. "You're not excited?"

She didn't reply, and she wasn't looking at him. Eventually, she pointed out the window to a road coming up on their right. "Turn here. The doctor's office is down this road."

He did as she said, trying to think of something to say but failing miserably to create a way to get back to the conversation after she'd distinctively cut it off.

Since when had she become so indifferent, anyway?

"Okay," the doctor pursed her lips as the picture on the screen began to clear up. Tony was leaning against the opposite wall, eyes locked on the fuzzy gray picture. "Looks good. You said you want to know the gender?"

Ziva nodded, but her eyes seemed unsure. Tony tried not to feel nauseous at the thought that just a few weeks ago, she'd been almost sentimental when she told him she thought the baby would be a girl, and for the life of him, he couldn't figure out why that had changed.

"Okay, well it looks like it's a girl."

Well damn, she was right.

He voiced so, and Ziva shrugged, a small smile on her face now. _Better_, he thought, looking back up at the screen.

The doctor let Ziva hear her heartbeat, and Tony felt his throat closing up at the sound that proved he had a daughter growing inside his partner. He briefly allowed himself to wonder what she would look like, but he only indulged for a moment before pushing the image of a green eyed, dark haired girl out of his mind.

He felt nauseous again, and Ziva's face no longer held the smile it did a few moments ago, which didn't help.

When the doctor let them go, he drove Ziva home, not saying much, because he didn't trust his tongue to support anything he tried to say. He dropped her off, barely managing a "See you later" before she had closed the door.

Driving much too fast the entire way, he drove to Gibbs' house, not bothering to knock and going straight to his basement.

"I can't do this." he said once Gibbs had looked at him. "I can't do this."

Gibbs shook his head. "No, don't do that, DiNozzo. Man up. You don't have a choice."

He felt like his heart was going to implode. "Well, I mean, I don't know if 'm ready to be a father, and I don't even know if Ziva's going to keep her. By the way, it's a girl. I bet she's gonna be just a beautiful as her mom, if I ever even get to see her."

He knew he was overreacting a bit, but he couldn't stop seeing the dead eyed, no-longer-pregnant Ziva from his dream.

Gibbs was silent for a moment, and when he spoke, his voice was soft. "I wish I could tell you something to help you, but whether or not she keeps that baby is between the two of you. It's got nothing to do with me."

Tony frowned. "Yeah, I figured you'd say that."

"But I will tell you this: Being a parent is the most rewarding thing a person can be."

Tony felt tears stinging the corners of his eyes. "But I don't even know if I can do the whole parenting thing, and I don't even know if she's going to give me the chance."

"Do you want the chance?"

He went to say he didn't know, but stopped, because even though he hadn't entirely weighed his current fears concerning the entire situation, he knew which fear was worse. The fear that she would simply give the baby away without even giving him the opportunity to know her scared him more than the fear of not being able to be a good parent.

So he nodded, slowly, swallowing past the sudden lump in his throat. "Yeah." he whispered. "I want the chance."


	8. Chapter 8

**Thanks again for the awesome feedback! I love getting everyone's reviews and comments on tumblr. It's pretty great. **

**What's greater is the fact you guys think this is going to get happy any time soon. **

**Hehe. **

**Anyway, read on. :) **

* * *

Once he'd admitted to himself that he actually wanted Ziva to keep their baby, Tony started thinking of ways to bring her up, trying to get Ziva to talk about her in any way possible. He started with simply asking if she'd been to the doctor again since they'd been told the gender. Usually, her response was nothing but factual, so that strategy proved to be unsuccessful. A few times, he tried asking what Ziva thought she would look like or act like. Each time he tried that, however, she would shrug and say that she didn't know. Then, the subject would get changed before he could push any farther.

Tony couldn't wrap his mind around what was going on in Ziva's head. Only three months ago, she'd told him that she wasn't sure if she wanted to simply give the baby away, but somehow, he felt like her entire attitude toward their baby was changing.

She hadn't said she didn't want to keep the baby, but then, she hadn't said she did, either.

Did she suddenly feel as if she couldn't be a parent after all? Or was she rethinking the possibility of keeping the child because it was his?

The latter option seemed to be more probable, and the agony of that possibility tortured him.

No matter how hard he tried to piece together when things had really started to seem different, he couldn't figure it out. They had made up after their few little fights, and

He knew that Gibbs was curious, because he could see it in his eyes at work whenever he looked at him. Every few days, he would conversationally ask Ziva how she was doing, but that was as far as that went. Tony knew he was just staying out of it, but part of him desperately wished that he would get involved, because if anyone could influence Ziva better than himself, it was Gibbs.

He knew that the odds of that happening weren't in his favor, though. Gibbs was letting them do this one on their own.

Tony was just about to get to the point of pulling Ziva aside and asking her directly because his desperation began his uncertainty and fear when Abby bought the baby girl her first gift: a simple pink sleeper with "Mama's little girl" stitched on the front.

"I know she's going to be born when it's a little warmer, so I made sure to get a really light fabric, so she shouldn't get hot in it." Abby explained when she gave it to her. "And I know I probably should have just waited until the baby shower, but I wanted to give this one to you early. Don't worry, though, there is more where that came from."

Tony watched closely as Ziva held the pink fabric between her hands, her eyes clouding over for the briefest moment. "Uh, thank you." she said, smiling up at Abby.

But Tony could see the force it took to put that smile on her face. One of her eyes glistened like she was trying not to cry, but she blinked, and it was gone just as fast as it had appeared.

"Oh, and when are you having a baby shower? I can help plan it, if you want, but you need to do it sooner rather than later, probably." Abby gushed, and Tony could feel his stomach turning over. He tried to soothe it by taking a deep breath, but it didn't work.

"Uh..." Ziva blanked, her eyes meeting his for the first time since Abby had handed her the sleeper. His eyebrow raised almost involuntarily. "I do not know."

Tony looked down, rubbing his hand over his forehead. Part of him had hoped that Ziva had at least given a baby shower some thought, because for some reason, he had a feeling that would have given him a hell of a lot more comfort that her not thinking about it at all.

"Oh, well I can plan it!" Abby insisted, clapping her hands together and turning to walk out. "Don't worry about anything!"

As she walked away, Tony looked at Ziva, who was still staring at the clothing she held. She was running her fingers over the fabric, her eyes soft. "Little too real now?" he asked on a whim, and her eyes snapped to his.

She barely hesitated before replying. "It's been a little too real for a while, Tony. Now..." she stopped, closing her eyes and shaking her head.

"Ziva... Do you... " he started, the ever so important question on the tip of his tongue. However, as she folded up the sleeper and put it in a drawer underneath her desk, he found that he couldn't get the words past his lips. Fear of what she would answer if asked forced him to shut his mouth, and he watched her carefully for any signs that she knew what he was thinking.

When she looked back up at him, her eyes held none of their previous emotion. She didn't finish what she was going to say, and she acted as if he hadn't even spoke. His heart gave a painful tug and he had to look away, because she wasn't simply being indifferent anymore.

She was starting to shut him out.

* * *

Tony went down to Abby's lab later that day, his heart still feeling like it was in his stomach. When he walked in, she smiled.

"Hey!" She quirked. "So, I know Ziva doesn't like pink very much, but I still want your baby to wear a somewhat girly color, so how does yellow sound? I know I got the pink outfit, but I mean, I figured if I didn't get her some pink, nobody would. I mean, I am not that big of a fan of pink, but a little girl has to have some pink somewhere, but she doesn't need tons and tons of pink, because then that would be a little too much, don't you think? But yellow is still kind of girly. It could work in the absence of pink, right?"

She paused, thinking. "Purple could work, though. It's not too girly, but then technically, it is a girl color and-"

"Abby." he stopped her, sighing. "I don't know if you should be buying too much stuff for her."

"Oh, it's no problem! I've never gotten to buy baby stuff before, so I am going to have so much fun picking things out for myself and helping you guys pick stuff out, and you don't have to worry about me spending money, because it's really not that big of a-"

"No, Abby." he interrupted again, his heart sinking lower in his chest. "I mean you probably shouldn't be buying too much of anything because... because I don't even know if Ziva is going to keep her."

Abby's smile dropped, and she stared at him for a moment with a look of pure shock on her face. She opened her mouth to say something, and then closed it for another moment before finally speaking. "What?"

He closed his eyes, trying to swallow past the lump in his throat. "She... might not keep her, Abby."

Abby's eyebrows came together, and she looked as if someone had just told her that her best friend was dead. "Why not?"

He shrugged, trying to blink away the stinging sensation in the corners of his eyes. "I don't know, Abby. Maybe she doesn't feel like she can be a parent or... maybe she doesn't want to keep a child that happened because of a mistake."

She started pacing, and he put his hands in his pockets, waiting. "But... don't you have a say in this?"

He laughed a quick, bitter laugh. "I basically told her it was her choice, actually."

Abby's eyes filled with tears, and he pushed his hands deeper into his pockets. For a moment, she struggled to find words. "But... I... How can... but don't you want her?"

He felt tears gathering in his own eyes, and he snapped them shut, giving her a simple nod when he discovered he couldn't get any words past his lips. He felt Abby's arms wrap around him, and he let his own wrap around her, allowing himself to be comforted by her firm hold. "Why can't you just tell her that?"

A tear slipped down his cheek, and he held her tighter. "You make that sounds like it's easy when it isn't."

She pulled away from him, pointing at her chair. "Sit." After he'd done so, she leaned against her table. "Now, why isn't it that easy?"

He pulled his hands out of his pockets and put them in his lap, looking down at them. "Because at the very beginning of all of this, I asked her what did she want to do? From the beginning, I've left everything up to her, Abby. I don't want to go back on my word."

She raised an eyebrow, and he knew that those excuses weren't good enough for her. "What if anything I say doesn't change her mind? What if she's already so set on not keeping her that nothing I say will do any good? What if me pushing her about it makes her resent the idea of keeping the baby even more? I... I'm... I don't know how to treat this, Abby. I'm... a little... scared."

Abby sighed. "Tony, you're not telling Ziva that you want her to keep _your_ child because of a bunch of 'what if's'?"

He shrugged, not meeting her eyes. "Yeah, I guess."

She reached out to put a hand on his shoulder, waiting until he looked at her to speak. "That isn't going to get you very far. Do you want to keep your baby?"

"Yes," he answered with no hesitation.

"Then you _have_ to tell her." She insisted. "I know it won't be easy, and you're right, it might not help. But how do you know until you've tried? And I don't want you to regret not trying to at least talk to her about it, because what if you can change her mind?"

He sighed, running a hand through his hair. "I don't... she's being so... indifferent. She's shutting me out. I doubt I can even get her to listen to me."

Abby's eyes softened, and she looked as if she was about to say something else, but McGee came in. "Tony, Gibbs wants you up in MTAC."

"Okay, Probie. Be there in a minute." he said, turning back to Abby as he stood.

"I'm always here... and... just think about it, okay? Because if this is something you really want, you need to try, because if you don't?" she gave him a knowing look, and he nodded, giving her a sad smile before turning and following McGee to the elevator.

That night, laying in bed, he let Abby's words replay in his head. She was right, and he knew that, but it didn't make it any easier. It was still bringing up a subject that, though it had seemed safe enough at the beginning of this crazy ride, it was touchy now. Part of him knew he would regret it if he didn't try talking to her and she winded up giving the baby away. But the other part of him was terrified that talking to her would take whatever they had left of their messed up relationship and ruin it.

If she even listened to him.

The image of her without the baby in his dreams played through his mind, and he shuddered, trying to will the images away. Something that had started off as a dream that didn't make any sense had turned into his worst nightmare.

With sleep evading him, he got out of bed and went into his kitchen, getting out a few beers. He then walked into his living room, sitting down on the couch and turning on his TV, scrolling through channel after channel until he found something he wanted to watch. Then, he sighed, settling into his couch and taking a gulp of his beer, focusing blankly on the screen in front of him.

It was going to be a long night.


	9. Chapter 9

**As always, thanks for all of the lovely reviews. I am ecstatic at the fact that my first published full length T/Z story is getting such good feedback. So thank you.**

* * *

Tony was losing hope with each passing day that Ziva wanted to keep their little girl. What started as a simple fear had swiftly turned into overwhelming dread. As the days went by, she came up with more and more ways to either change the subject quickly when the baby was brought up or avoid talking about it completely. Before he knew it, two weeks had gone by since he'd talked to Abby and they still hadn't made any progress. He knew that Abby was right, and that he needed to talk to her, but any time he thought that he might be able to, he was too afraid to follow through.

On the few rare occasions that he actually did get the guts to try bringing the topic up, she seemed to realize where he was going and she would either start talking about something else, or make an excuse to leave the room. He thought it was almost unfair that she still seemed to be able to read him, but his ability to read her was lessening by the day.

Why was she avoiding talking about it? Was she so set already on a decision that it was pointless for him to keep trying? Or was she afraid that if he did talk to her, he would wind up changing her mind? Did she just not want to talk about it with him?

No matter how hard he tried to figure it out, he was clueless.

At the very beginning, she'd told him that she didn't want to go through this situation alone, and now suddenly it seemed that she was trying to. Part of him tried to believe that it was just because everything had been so stressful around them lately, and she was just trying to keep things sane by not talking about the source of most of their recent disputes. However, he knew that the possibility of that being her reasoning was slim. They hadn't been fighting _that _much. They had argued a few times, sure, but not bad enough for her to stay mad at him or to barely speak to him.

His nightmares were getting worse, and were now so common now that the only way he could sleep at all was to take sleeping pills or drink, and neither really helped any. He still woke up feeling either tired, lethargic, slightly hungover, or a combination of the three. It was all he could do to keep it from affecting the way he worked. They were already one agent short on the field. They definitely didn't need him to start spacing out on the job.

After a while of not hearing anything from either of them, Abby's curiosity seemed to get the best of her, and she walked into the squad room one day and asked Ziva how she was doing.

Ziva's response wasn't one that either of them would have hoped for, though. She simply shrugged and said, "I'm fine, Abby."

Abby nodded, eyes meeting Tony's for the briefest moment before speaking again. "So, uh, do... do you want me to give you a baby shower? I... I realized that I didn't actually ask you, and that I just told you I was throwing you one without asking if that was okay, so..."

Ziva's eyes snapped to Tony's, as if she knew he'd talked to her, but she quickly broke the connection to look back at Abby. "I... If you want to, Abby, you can."

"So if you get a lot of stuff, you're going... to use it?" She asked slowly, eyes wide. Tony held his breath, waiting for her to answer. Abby had, in a roundabout way, just asked Ziva the question that had been burning in his mind for weeks.

Ziva looked down at her hands in her lap, her lips pursed. "I... I do not know, Abby." She said slowly, not looking up.

Tony's heart sank, and he picked up his stapler, twisting it around in his hands. He looked over at McGee, who was watching him as opposed to the rest of the room who had their attention on Ziva. He gave him a halfhearted shrug, and McGee shrugged in return.

Abby nodded. "Okay." she replied, though it nearly sounded like a question. "Well, have you thought about... any names?"

Ziva pulled the corner of her bottom lip between her teeth. "A little." She murmured, and Tony's interest picked up the slightest bit.

"What have you thought about?" Abby's eyes lit up a little, and she looked over at him. He shrugged, listening intently to whatever was about to be said.

"I..." Ziva struggled, looking as if she wanted to be anywhere but sitting in her desk with the entire team listening to her response. "I want her to... to have a... Hebrew name somewhere, whether it is middle or first, I... I don't know, but... other than that..." she shrugged uncomfortably, and Tony noticed she was avoiding looking at him.

Abby leaned against the wall behind Ziva's desk. "Well... " she pondered. "You could do a Hebrew first name, and..." Her eyes widened. "Her middle name could... it could be Kelly."

Four sets of eyes sharply looked to Gibbs, who was looking at his computer with a small smile on his face. He shrugged simply, looking over at Ziva. "I like it."

Everyone relaxed at his words, and McGee gave an appreciative nod. "I like it, too."

For the first time since Abby had first come in, Ziva looked at Tony, and for a moment, she looked as if she felt almost guilty. But too soon, the look was gone and replaced with a much more neutral expression.

Abby clapped, a wide smile on her face. "I think that would be adorable!"

Ziva sighed, shaking her head slightly. "Abby..."

Abby seemed to recognize the tone in Ziva's voice, and she deflated quickly, looking over at Tony with a shrug and an "I tried" expression. He gave her a small shrug of his own as she stammered out a "I'm gonna go" and left.

Tony put his head in his hands, feeling even more hopeless, and knowing that he was going to have to talk to Ziva soon, whether he wanted to get into that conversation or not. It had to be done, no matter how terrified he was.

He looked back up at her, and she was biting her lip, staring at her clenched fist on her desk. He watched as she closed her eyes and took a slow, deep breath. Maybe this wasn't any easier on her than it was on him, he thought. Maybe there was more of a chance than there seemed to be.

"You okay?" he asked, wishing desperately that he could take that expression off of her face. No matter how she treated him or how far away she pushed him, he cared too much for his own good.

She looked up at him, seeming almost shocked that he was speaking so gently with her. "I..." she struggled for a minute, and then spoke firmly. "I'm going to be fine."

She nodded once, formal, and any hope he'd just had was suddenly gone. He put his head back in his hands, knowing he would need painkillers for the headache he could feel coming. The phone rang loudly in the silence, and Gibbs answered it, hanging up after a moment to tell them that they had a case. Tony stood, followed by McGee, who stayed relatively silent throughout the whole baby name discussion. He gave Tony a look of sympathy as they passed by Ziva's desk, neither one of them saying a word.

When they got back to the office a few hours later, he tried to avoid meeting her gaze, which, if he'd been paying attention, wouldn't have been that difficult, because she was doing the same.

But he didn't pay attention, or at least, he tried not to, because he knew what that would do to him, and he had to stay sane somehow.

* * *

"DiNozzo, I am not going to talk to her for you. If you want to talk to her, you do it. Stop acting like you're five," Gibbs said from where he stood in his basement.

Tony sighed. "I've tried. She's... she's almost refusing to talk to me about it."

"She's been talking to you, Tony," Gibbs said, narrowing his eyes slightly.

"Something changed. I don't know what changed. I mean, yeah, we had a few fights over a few weeks, but... that wouldn't make her so indifferent to me. I mean, we said our "I'm sorry"s and worked everything out. She's just... she's avoiding the topic now," Tony explained, rubbing his hand over his forehead.

"Try harder," Gibbs replied simply, sanding down a piece of wood.

"It's not that easy!" Tony yelled, feeling tears stinging his eyes. "She's completely avoiding me, and... and that doesn't just hurt because I want to keep our baby. That hurts because this whole time, she's been treating this all like a mistake that shouldn't have happened, and it doesn't feel that way to me!"

He closed his eyes, taking a few deep breaths to calm the urge he had to hit something. When he opened his eyes again, Gibbs was looking at him with a look that was somewhere between pity and understanding. "You don't think it was a mistake."

It wasn't a question, but he answered anyway. "No. When I woke up that morning and she was gone, I... It hurt. When I tried to talk to her about it, before I knew she was pregnant, she just told me to forget about it. She said it was just a mistake. She's been treating it like that the whole time, and at first... at first I thought that the fact she was pregnant would change the way I looked at it all, but it didn't."

"That's more than I want to know," Gibbs responded, turning back to the piece of wood he was sanding.

"Thanks for listening, though. It helps a little," he offered, and Gibbs smiled slightly.

"You've got to talk to her, DiNozzo. I can't do it for you, and you can't keep coming to me to play Dr. Phil and vent everything on me. This is between you and her, and if you want her to know that you care about her and want to keep your baby, she's going to have to hear it from you."

Tony sighed. "Yeah, I know, but every time I picture how that conversation is going to go, it doesn't go well."

Gibbs didn't say anything else, so he stood, walking toward the stairs. "Thanks, again."

Gibbs grunted in response, and Tony smirked, knowing that was all he was going to get. If there was any piece of stable ground through all of this, it was Gibbs. Of course, that was how things had always been, and the fact that it wasn't changing despite the circumstances was comforting.

The drive home took longer than usual, because snow was starting to fall. The February chill had been a little worse this year, he thought vaguely, trying not to lose himself in his more dangerous thoughts. Thinking about the weather was a safer path to travel down. He knew that Gibbs and Abby were both right; if he wanted to tell Ziva anything, he would have to do it himself, and he would have to do it soon.

But knowing that he had to do it and actually getting the courage to do it were two completely different things.


	10. Chapter 10

**Thanks, as always, for everything. You know the drill. :) **

* * *

Weeks passed, and Tony got no closer to figuring out what was going on inside Ziva's head. After so many failed attempts of talking to her in a comfortable, every day situation about the simplest things relating to the baby, his tries grew fewer and farther between. She had pushed him so far out that now she would barely even talk to him at all. Even simply asking how she was doing had managed to become a question she would shrug off and not give him a real answer to.

He laid awake almost every night, staring at his ceiling and trying to figure out how the hell he was supposed to actually get Ziva to talk to him, especially when she seemed so determined not to do so. She was at 30 weeks now, he knew. Somehow, he'd happened to take note of the last time she'd actually mentioned how far along she was, and he'd kept up with it since, because she certainly hadn't told him. There was only 10 weeks at the most left before she had their little girl, and unless he was misreading everything, Ziva wanted to give her away.

So he knew he needed to talk to her. When he did finally get around to it, though, what was he supposed to say? Did he tell her everything, beginning with the fact that their night together had meant more to him than he'd let on? Did he just tell her that he wanted them to keep the baby and see where things went from there?

Every time he tried to work out a way to even begin saying any of those things, he couldn't come up with something that sounded acceptable, even if he did conjure up the courage to actually say any of it.

And what if she just really didn't want to keep the baby? What if her decision was final, and there was nothing he could do?

Could he keep her?

For a few days, he entertained the thought that he could keep their daughter, but he knew that wouldn't work. If Ziva didn't want to keep her, she probably wouldn't let him keep her himself, and even if she did, he was scared enough to be a parent at all. He knew he would never be able to do it alone. No matter how much he wanted to keep his little girl, he knew that option wasn't really possible.

The hopelessness he felt was the worst he could ever remember having, with only one exception. The only time he could recall feeling more hopeless than this entire situation was making him was the summer after he found out about the fate of the Damocles, and he'd lost himself in a sea of regrets, brokenness, and whiskey. That hopelessness had changed him, turned him into something that none of his friends recognized. Hell, he hadn't even been able to recognize himself.

This desperate feeling was different, though, even though he couldn't exactly figure out why. Ever since he'd admitted to Gibbs that he actually wanted the chance to be a parent, the feeling seemed to grow daily, because each day that passed seemed to lower the possibility of Ziva keeping their baby. He hadn't talked to Gibbs in his basement since that night, and Gibbs hadn't really asked if Tony had done anything yet.

Tony actually appreciated that, in a way, because he didn't want to have to tell him that he'd done absolutely nothing, even if everyone could see that things were still bad between them. It was much too obvious to even pretend otherwise. If Ziva had been allowed to anything other than sit at her desk, he knew that Gibbs wouldn't send them anywhere together. It was already bad enough having to sit across from her every day and pretend that nothing was bothering him.

He wasn't as good at it as she was, but maybe that was because she wasn't bothered by it at all. Maybe it was just him, like it had always seemed to be.

Abby was his physical conscious these days, and stared at him whenever he was around her, as if she was trying to see what was going on in his head just as hard as he was trying to see into Ziva's. One day, while he was sitting in her lab alone with her, waiting on a DNA test to finish running, she turned to him and crossed her arms over her chest. "Why haven't you talked to Ziva yet?"

He blanked, not expecting the directness of her question after such a prolonged period of nothing but stares. He hesitated, looking down at his shoes.

"I just... I haven't gotten around to it." He shook his head at how lame that sounded.

"That is not even close to being acceptable." She leaned against her desk, her eyes firm. "You need to talk to her."

"I know," he sighed, running a hand through his hair and looking back up at her. "I know I do."

"Then why haven't you done it?" Abby's tone was slightly accusing now, and she looked disappointed.

He broke their eye contact again, eyes scanning the room for something other than her face to focus on. "Do you realize that I never know what she's thinking anymore?" he admitted, feeling his throat already trying to close up. "Any time I try to talk to her about the baby somewhere that it could easily be discussed, she changes the subject. It doesn't matter how simple it is, she will barely talk to me. Before all this, we could read each other like the front page headlines." He paused, swallowing. "It feels like I've lost her. I just... I don't understand why she still seems to know what I'm thinking or where I'm going with a conversation when I can't even figure out what's going on in her head no matter how hard I try."

He let his eyes find hers again, and they were softer, sympathy replacing some of the accusation. "Because she's pushing you out, and you're not pushing her out. That's why you just need to put your foot down and talk to her. You're running out of time to do it."

"I know I am, Abby. Believe me," he muttered, feeling cold despite the warmer temperature of the room.

Abby reached out, putting her hand on his shoulder. "You can do it. Maybe it won't be as hard as you think it will."

He gave her a small, hopeful smile, even though he knew deep down in his gut that she was wrong.

* * *

"You haven't talked to her yet."

Unlike Abby, when Gibbs finally does bring the subject up to Tony in a nearly empty squad room that night, he doesn't ask any questions.

"No. I haven't," he states, staring at the paperwork on his desk, not feeling like being chewed out again. He's exhausted and knows that he doesn't have it in him to hear disappointed words from his boss, too.

He hears Gibbs stand, and looked up to see Gibbs standing in front of him. "You need to."

Gibbs face isn't judgmental, and his gaze isn't nearly as accusing as Abby's was earlier in the day. Tony nods, sighing. "Yeah. I know I do."

"Running out of time," came his simple reply.

"I know that, too," he nearly snaps, the weight of the situation suddenly feeling ten times heavier. "I'll..." He hesitated. "I'll do it tonight. I'll talk to her tonight."

Gibbs nods, accepting this. "Okay."

And then he walks away, not saying another word to him.

Once Gibbs has disappeared into the elevator, Tony puts his head in his hands. He'd just told Gibbs he would talk to her tonight, so he had to, now. He hadn't planned on it, and suddenly he felt like being shot in the chest would probably be less painful than what he had to do.

Abby and Gibbs were right, though. It was time to stop avoiding it. No more running needed to be done.

He pulled his cell phone out of his pocket, dialing her number and putting the phone to his ear. It rang several times, and for a moment he thought that she wasn't even going to answer his call, but finally, she picked up.

"Hello?" Her voice was timid, and his heart jumped so hard he almost hung up the phone.

"H-hey," He stammered. "I was just... I was just going to ask if you had ate yet, and uh, if you hadn't, I was going to, uh... bring a pizza over o-or something for you."

"I already ate, so you do not have to worry about it." she answered, too quick for his liking. Part of his mind tells him to forget about it, but he tries again.

"Well, I was... just offering bec-"

"Well, I have already had my dinner, but thank you." she said again, much quicker than she did the first time, and then the line went dead.

He stared at the phone in his hand for a long moment, thinking that she had somehow known where he was going with that and ended the conversation before he could get there. How would she have known that, though? Maybe she just really didn't want to talk to him, and he would just have to accept that.

He opened up his desk drawer, pulling out the single sonogram that he had of his daughter. He had gotten a copy from the doctor when they'd gone to find out the gender. Ziva didn't even know he had it, and he honestly hadn't wanted her to know, anyway. He stared at it for a long moment, picking out the various parts of her: her nose, her fingers, her feet. He remembered the sound of her little heartbeat, so vivid in his mind, and he picked his phone back up.

He wasn't just accepting this. There were a lot of things over the years that he and Ziva had simply forgotten about and never discussed with each other again, but he wasn't going to let this be one of them. This wasn't just something that had happened and could be forgotten. This was different.

She doesn't answer the first time he calls, or the next few times, but it doesn't stop him from redialing her number over and over. Every time the phone stopped ringing, he dialed again, staring at the sonogram in his hand the entire time.

Finally, long after he'd lost count of how many times he'd called, she answered. "What do you want, Tony?"

"We need to talk." He said, his voice firm. His grip on the picture in his hand tightened the slightest bit.

She stayed silent for a long moment, but he didn't say a word. He let her take her time with whatever it was she needed to, knowing that she was probably going through a list of questions similar to the ones that he'd been asking himself over the past few weeks.

But no matter what questions she asked herself, she knew he was right. It was the first thing that he'd been sure of about her in such a long time that he felt a small sliver of the hopelessness he'd been feeling dissipate. It gave him the smallest bit of hope back that maybe, just maybe, he hadn't lost her completely.

Finally, she sighed. "I... I guess... Yeah, y-you're right." she struggled for a moment, but he waited patiently. "We can talk later or-"

"No," he cut her off, shaking his head for an emphasis the she couldn't see. "We're not putting this off anymore. We need to talk, and we're going to. Tonight. Now, have you really eaten, or were you just telling me that so I wouldn't come over?"

She took a sharp breath, and his suspicions are proved correct. "I didn't think so." He continued, not waiting for her to conjure up another lie. "So I'm going to pick up a pizza, and I'm going to come over, and we're going to talk."

The line stayed eerily quiet, but he could hear her breathing steadily, and his heart beat so hard inside his chest he was afraid it might burst out. "I... okay."

"See you soon." he said, hanging up.

He put his phone back in his pocket and picked up his stuff, taking the sonogram with him. Somehow, he felt like having that single picture in his pocket would give him enough inspiration to do anything.

So he figured that having it with him when he talked to Ziva would give him the inspiration to keep going no matter what she tried to throw at him.


	11. Chapter 11

**I almost want to go ahead and apologize for this. But I won't. ;) **

* * *

The drive to Ziva's apartment after getting the pizza took much too long, but winded up being too short at the same time. His heart somehow managed to beat in his ears and sink to his stomach simultaneously, and he found himself clinging to the sonogram in one hand while driving with the other, no longer feeling nearly as brave as before.

He parked outside her building, and sat there for just a moment, closing his eyes and trying to calm his racing heart and nauseous stomach. He let himself have a moment to feel afraid of what outcome this conversation would have and what road it would lead them down. There were two ways it could go, he reasoned, trying not to dwell on the fact that the less desirable one could already be set in her mind. He wasn't even sure he could do this. That was why he'd been putting it off for so long, after all.

Because what if his suspicions were right? What if everything crashed and burned?

"You have to do this, DiNozzo." he told himself finally, putting the picture of his daughter in his pocket and climbing out of the car. The air was colder than he expected, and he shivered, putting his hands in his pockets.

The picture was warm in comparison to the chilly night, and somehow, that gave him the strength to go up to her apartment and knock on the door despite his racing heartbeat.

She took a few moments to answer it, and he found himself staring down at his ground while he waited, trying to figure out the pattern in the carpet. She took so long, he was just about to raise his hand to knock again when she finally opened the door. She gave him a simple nod in greeting, opening the door wider for him and disappearing back into her apartment. He followed her slowly to the kitchen, putting the pizza on the counter and trying to figure out if she was going to say anything. He watched silently as she opened the refrigerator, gazing inside as if she were looking for something specific, but he knew she was just avoiding looking at him.

"Are you going to stop pretending to look into your refrigerator and actually talk to me?" He called her out for it, and she froze for the briefest moment, caught off guard. He watched closely, trying to assess her actions and decide the best way to approach her.

"Well," she hesitated, moving a soda bottle to the side to see what was behind it. He huffed impatiently, counting in his head in an attempt to stay calm. "I thought we had already... talked, Tony. What else is there?"

Anger swelled in him suddenly at her calm, placid demeanor, and before he'd realized it, he'd gone over to where she was, pushing the refrigerator door closed. She stood, facing him, her face carefully blank. "Ziva," he said as evenly as possible, trying to calm himself and failing miserably.

She seemed to realize exactly how serious he was and nodded slowly. She leaned against the counter awkwardly, her hand almost automatically coming to rest on her stomach, but then she moved it quickly, placing it on the counter beside her instead. "I... Okay, talk."

He resisted the urge to step closer to her, choosing instead to lean against her counter two or so feet away from her, mirroring her position. "Why have you been treating me differently lately?" He began, hoping this first question would be easier than those that would follow.

"I haven't," she tried, but he shook his head.

"This can take an hour, or this can take all night, Ziva," he told her slowly, eyes never leaving hers. "I really don't care, but I am not leaving until you give me some honest answers. So let's try that one more time. Why have you been treating me differently? Why have you been shutting me out?"

She pursed her lips, breaking their eye contact for a moment. When she looked back at him, he raised an eyebrow at her. She sighed, running a hand through her hair. "Because... because you kept asking about... her, Tony, and I... I didn't know what I was going to do. So, I just... decided to stop answering. I did not want you to get your hopes up."

He scoffed, rolling his eyes. "Well mission accomplished. Congratulations."

"I figured it was better that way." She glared, crossing her arms over her chest defensively. "It was easier for me."

"Well, it wasn't exactly easier to me, Ziva. Did you ever think about that?" He spat accusingly, not really caring that he was being a little harsh.

She gave him a little shrug. "I... I thought that perhaps it would be."

"It wasn't, Ziva." He replied more calmly, not wanting to push her too far. "But I need to know."

"I... " she hesitated, turning away from him and walking away from him. She opened the pizza box on the counter, picking off a piece of pepperoni and eating it slowly. He suddenly felt anxious and he tried not to scream at her to just _spit it out_ already. "I just... I can't, Tony."

His heart missed a beat. "You can't what, Ziva?" he asked, despite already knowing the answer.

She was fidgeting with a piece of pizza, deliberating. "I... We can't... We can't keep... her, Tony."

He swallowed, willing the feeling of dread not to come. _Fight back_, he told himself, taking a deep breath. This wasn't anywhere near over. "Ziva, come on. We-"

"No, Tony," she rubbed a hand across her forehead, closing the pizza box back and facing him again. "I mean, do you really think we can be parents?"

"Yes," he answered with no hesitation, and he could tell his answer shocked her, but he didn't give her a chance to respond before continuing. "I do, actually. I didn't to begin with, but that changed. I want us to keep her, Ziva."

"I thought you just wanted to know what I was thinking!" She threw his words back at him, and he cursed under his breath.

"Well, people lie, Ziva. And I just don't think it's the right decision and I have the right to voice that," he snapped in return, knowing that all of this yelling probably wasn't helping his case any.

Ziva looked away from him, shaking her head, and his heart took a painful lurch. "_I_ do not know if we should."

"I think we should," he countered swiftly, trying desperately to think of a way to make her listen to him. "You know I've been having nightmares ever since all this started? I keep seeing you, all happy and pregnant, and... and then suddenly... suddenly, you're not, and she's not there with you. It's just you, and you're looking at me so... so coldly, and you walk away, and she's not there, Ziva. Every single time I see that, it... I... I don't like it, Ziva. It's not..." He snapped his mouth shut, realizing too late that he had been rambling. His eyes pleaded with her to understand him.

"Tony." She whispered, breaking off their eye contact and looking at the floor. She looked like she was in physical pain and he felt a quick flash of guilt that he shook off. "Look at us. We are fighting all the time! Everything is so stressful, and... I just think this entire... thing... has made us... too complicated."

_Thing_. He winced at her choice of words. "Ziva, we've always been complicated! Things between have never been easy or simple or anything like that, so what does it matter? We're complicated. So what? I thought we'd just learned to accept that."

"Perhaps," she agreed, leveling her eyes at him. "But this has made it much worse, and I just do not think we should do this. With our jobs and our past and everything, maybe we should give her to a more stable home where she will be taken care of, and move on. I believe that would be best for... everyone."

He shook his head, blinking away his sudden desperate tears. He took a step closer to her. "No. We can take care of her, Ziva. We can. People with our job do it all the time, and our past is in the past. It doesn't have anything to do with this other than the fact that it's gotten us to where we are," he paused to take a breath before addressing the last part of her statement. "And.. and that wouldn't be better for everyone. That wouldn't be better for me."

"Maybe it would!" she snapped, throwing her hands up in exasperation. "You do not know that! How can you say that it would not be best for you when it has not happened?"

"Because Ziva, I just do. Call it a gut thing." He returned harshly, rubbing a hand over his forehead and trying to figure out another approach despite the headache he could feel starting.

"You are not Gibbs," she replied coldly.

"He's taught me a lot, Ziva," he responded. "I've been working for him a long time."

"I have, too," she sneered. "Maybe I can listen to my gut, as well."

"Don't even try to tell me that you're listening to your gut, Ziva. I'm not buying that," he told her tensely. He could feel himself losing any of the patience he still had, and he was trying his hardest to stay calm.

"Tony." She replied, suddenly looking much more exhausted. "I have thought about this a lot. Do you think that I'm making rash decisions without thinking them through? Because I would not do that. I have thought this through several times. We are not risking the... the wellbeing of a child-"

"_A_ child?" He spat incredulously, shaking his head. "Wrong. _Our_ child, Ziva."

She sent him a glare that made some of her exhaustion seem to disappear and started over. "We are _not_ risking the wellbeing of _our_ child just because we..." She stopped suddenly, closing her eyes.

"Messed up." He finished for her, beginning to feel defeated. He put his hand back in his pocket, letting his thumb run over the smooth surface of the sonogram. He sighed, deciding to try one more time. "Ziva." Her eyes snapped open at the tenderness in his voice. "You want to be a mom. I know you do. You had almost given up on that possibility, and now you have it again. You can be a mom, and I know you want to be. So why are you doing this?"

For the briefest moment, her eyes glistened and he let himself think that maybe he had gotten through to her, but then she walked past him, going to her sink and turning on the faucet. He stared at her back while she ran her hand under the water, willing her to turn around and say something, anything. "Ziva..." her name slipped past his lips, but she didn't turn back around.

"Tony," she began slowly, her voice resigned as she reached for a glass on the counter, turning it over in her hands. "I've already written down the name and number of an adoption agency in another area that has a pretty decent success rate for adoptions. I... I've made the decision."

He could feel himself grasping at straws that weren't even there, "But what about me, Ziva? Don't I get any say in this?"

She was staring out the window, and he could see her eyes were glistening again in the reflection. "I... I thought it was my decision."

"Who told you that?" he asked, incredulous.

"You did." She stammered a bit, looking uncomfortable. "Or you implied it. And it is my decision, because... we... because we aren't... together."

He tried to get her to look at him in the reflection of the window, but she was persistently avoiding his gaze. "Ziva, please," he pleaded, desperate for anything.

She didn't say anything for the longest moment, and he waited for her to respond with his heart pounding. Finally, she glanced at him over her shoulder, her face void of any emotion. She'd pushed him back out after only letting him inside her head long enough to break his heart. With a start, he realized that he didn't even recognize her anymore, and then he knew that the conversation was over.

"You should go."

And there it was. In one statement, she'd managed to make all of his suspicions, fears, and nightmares a reality. In one statement, she had finalized what he had been so terrified of. His stomach dropped, his throat closed up, and his heart gave a painful tug as she turned back to the sink.

He closed his eyes tightly, trying to swallow past the lump in his throat, trying to will it all away, like it was just another nightmare, but it wasn't. He had tried, and he had failed. He'd listened to Gibbs and Abby, and he'd talked to her, only to have what he was afraid of happen. He'd done everything he'd known to do, and it hadn't helped. She was going to give their baby away, and he'd never get the chance to know her.

He nodded slowly, even though she couldn't see him, and walked out of the apartment, not once looking back, despite the fact that with every step he took, his heart begged him to go back and keep trying.

But there isn't any point in him doing that.

When he got to his car, he climbed in, leaning his head back against the back of the seat, feeling like there was a knife in his stomach that was being turned every few seconds. He put his cold hands into his pocket, and then pulled the sonogram out. Staring at the fine details of the picture, he let himself cry for the daughter that he hadn't even met, but somehow had already lost.


	12. Chapter 12

**Thanks, as always, for everything. From every like/reblog/reply on tumblr to every follow/favorite/review here- it's all appreciated. **

* * *

In a way, the pain that followed Tony after his confrontation with Ziva exceeded the pain of the summer after they left her in Israel, when he thought she was dead. At first, he'd contemplated why that could be, because Ziva wasn't dead, and he had sworn that no pain would ever be greater than that. After pondering it, though, he realized that it actually made sense. That summer, he had lost Ziva. This time, he had lost so much more.

Part of him figured it was just bad karma built up over the years. He'd always heard people tell him that eventually, all the things he had done would come back to bite him in the ass. Maybe it was just that. Or maybe it was just the universe slapping him in the face for being so uncertain about the baby in the beginning of it all. Maybe if he had handled the situation better, this wouldn't have happened.

But that hardly seemed fair.

That night, after he'd finally dried his eyes enough to drive himself home, he'd laid in his small, twin-sized bed for the longest time, just staring at the ceiling and letting his tears slip down his face, grieving for what he'd lost. He wasn't sure how to deal with this, how to move on. Usually, there was a snide remark, a movie quote, or _something_ else to make it all seem not so bad, but this time, he had absolutely nothing.

He fought with himself the whole night, laying in his bed or pacing his floor. He didn't eat anything, or even attempt to. The television didn't come on, and he didn't consume a single drop of alcohol. He knew that none of those things would make the situation any better. He spent part of the night berating himself, telling himself he should have fought harder, but in the end, he knew he'd done about all he could think to do. He'd approached her from every angle he could think of and pursued each one as far as it would go.

It just hadn't been enough, and now he knew he'd lost both of them, for good. Ziva would never be able to work on the same team as him again. One of them would have to be relocated, and then he'd probably never see her again. It would be for the best, and he knew that, but it wouldn't make it any easier to accept.

He wondered which one of them it would be to get moved, and tried his hardest not to think about when they'd left her in Israel nearly four years ago.

Maybe he would leave this time, and let her stay. He wouldn't feel the same there without her, so it would just be a cleaner break for him to go somewhere else. He had a lot of experience, and he knew finding another job wouldn't be too difficult of a task.

The next morning, after a sleepless night, he made himself a strong coffee and went to work, somehow knowing that Ziva wouldn't be there. When he walked off the elevator, the first person he saw was McGee, who looked troubled.

"What's up, McGoober?" he asked, but his voice didn't fit the statement, and it winded up sounding off.

"Uh, well Ziva called this morning. She's taking her maternity leave sooner than she had originally intended," McGee explained, raising an eyebrow. "She still has a while left, doesn't she?"

Tony shook his head. "She's at 30 weeks. She's got 10 left. Is that a lot?"

"Kind of," McGee shrugged. "What happened?"

Tony closed his eyes, fighting the tears he'd been crying all night. _Not at work_. "She isn't keeping her." He tried to keep his voice formal, but it cracked anyway.

McGee was silent, and Tony opened his eyes slowly to see a sympathetic expression looking back at him. "Well... did you want her to?"

He nodded slowly. "Yeah, actually. I did."

McGee pursed his lips. "Well," he began. "Maybe you can talk to her, and you guys can-"

"I tried, McGee," he snapped, and then sighed, speaking again with a softer tone. "I tried."

McGee stared at him, and opened his mouth a few times as if he were going to try to say something, but every time, he closed his mouth again, no words forming. Tony could understand that completely. He wasn't entirely sure of what to say either.

Finally, McGee reached out to cup his shoulder, his eyes sympathetic. "I... I'm sorry. M-maybe something will happen and it'll all work out?"

Tony sighed as McGee's hand slipped from his shoulder awkwardly. "Well, that would be nice to believe, wouldn't it?"

McGee looked uncomfortable now, so Tony gave him a quick pat on the arm and told him that he was going to see Abby, saving the probie from having to figure out something else to say.

When he walked into Abby's lab, she turned around, and the smile on her face quickly faded. "Tony?"

He swallowed thickly, bracing himself. "Hey."

She walked toward him, head tilted to one side. "Did... did you talk to her?"

He nodded. "Yeah, I did. It, uh, it didn't go so well."

Abby hesitated, wringing her hands together. He knew what the next words out of her mouth would be, and he knew that she had already figured out the answer. "Well... how exactly did it go?"

He looked down, shutting his eyes tightly for a moment. "You... you don't have to worry about giving her a... " he stopped, the word "baby" not being able to get past his lips. "... a shower."

He lifted his eyes back to her, and he could see her mind working in overdrive. "I... I should have thrown it sooner, or talked to her more, or bought her more little cute things, or-"

"Abby, don't," he whispered painfully, a tear slipping down his cheek. He wiped it away quickly, blinking a few times to try clearing the moisture in his eyes. "This isn't your fault, and you should not be blaming yourself."

"Well," she said slowly, pacing back and forth. "Maybe you could try talking to her again and-"

"No, Abby," he interrupted her again, fighting to hold on to his sanity. "I tried everything. It's her decision, and... and she chose."

"No, you're the father of that baby, Tony. You have just as much of a say as she does," she told him, and he sighed.

"Yes, Abby. Thank you. I know that I could take my child and raise her without any legal problems whatsoever, but..." He closed his eyes. "Ziva wouldn't like it, and she'd hate me forever, if she doesn't already, and I... I can't do that by myself. I just can't. If she can't have both of her parents, maybe it would just be better for her to be put in a... more stable home."

Abby shook her head, pursing her lips. "That isn't fair, Tony! I think you could do it! And even if you can't, I still think that there's _something_ you can do where Ziva is concerned."

"There isn't, Abby." He rubbed his tired eyes, needing another coffee. This was the hardest thing he'd ever done, and having to explain it like this was definitely not helping any.

She came to stand right in front of him, one hand on her hip. "You... but you can't just give up."

He laughed a quick, bitter laugh. "I don't really have a choice, Abby. I did all I could."

Her eyes narrowed. "I don't buy it. You have to do something!"

More tears threatened to spill down his cheeks, and he looked up at the ceiling, blinking hard. "Abby, I... I really can't deal with you tearing me apart right now, okay? I've already done it enough myself."

His voice was low, and Abby sighed, throwing her hands up in exasperation. "Damn it," she muttered angrily, leaning against her table. "Tony, you-"

"Hey Abby," a voice came from her door. "I got this bullet for you. Dr. Mallard just pulled it out of our dead petty officer and so I was just-"

Tony turned to see Jimmy standing in the doorway of Abby's lab, and when Jimmy saw them, he stopped short, his eyes widening.

"Jimmy-" Abby started, but Jimmy talked faster than she did.

"Oh, God, I'm interrupting aren't I? I am. I'm interrupting. I am so, so sorry. Uh, you know what I'm just going to-"

"No, don't worry about it, Palmer." Tony sighed, looking back at Abby. "I was just leaving."

Abby gave him a look that suggested she was considering killing him, but he walked out anyway, avoiding Jimmy's confused gaze when he walked by and not once looking back.

He'd dealt with a lot in his lifetime, and he'd been able to move on, or he'd shoved the memories that caused him pain into the recesses of his brain where they wouldn't bother him, but he couldn't do that with this.

Later that day, he found himself sitting at the break room table, half a cup of cold coffee sitting in front of him, trying to figure out exactly what he was going to do. He reached into his jacket pocket, the sonogram still there. It was bent a little on one corner now, but it was otherwise unharmed. He wondered where she would wind up, what kind of life she would have.

Maybe, if he figured out who adopted her, he could talk to them and see if they wouldn't mind him seeing her every once in a while, just to make sure she was doing well. Maybe that would make things a little less painful, knowing she was okay.

Or maybe it wasn't too late. Maybe Abby was right, and there was still something he could do.

He pulled out his phone and typed a quick text to Ziva, erasing and rewriting it ten times before he finally hit send.

_Hey, just wanted to see how you were doing. I know things were bad last night, but I just wanted to check in on you. _

He sat there staring at his phone for a few minutes, and when she didn't reply immediately, he went back to the squad room, ignoring the look McGee gave him when he walked in. "You finished your paperwork from the McMorris case yet?" he asked, standing in front of McGee's desk.

"Uh... no. I was just about to do it," McGee replied, gesturing to the small stack of paper in front of him.

"Here, I'll do it." Tony picked up the papers, taking them to his desk and starting to work through them.

"Tony, uh, are you-"

"Fine," he interrupted, staring at the piece of paper in front of him but knowing that no matter how hard he tried to work or keep his mind occupied, the weight of the tiny, black and white picture in his pocket would only get heavier.

* * *

Ziva never did respond to his message, and he knew he never really expected her to in the first place. After the way they'd fought, he should have known better. If he was in her shoes, he probably wouldn't have replied either.

Besides, what was she supposed to say, anyway?

He had never felt more taken back than when he'd looked at her and saw that emotionless look that he hadn't seen in so long on her face. Maybe she really was trying to do the right thing and keep him from hurting too much at the same time, but if that was her intention, she hadn't done a great job.

She had just winded up making everything really messy from his perspective, and now he was stuck with a broken heart and a future that hurt almost any way he looked at it.

On one hand, Ziva could find a good couple to adopt the baby, but then, they would want it to be a closed adoption, and he'd never get to see his little girl. On another, he could talk to the parents and see how they would feel about the adoption being open to him, just so he could check up on her. Or maybe, somehow, a miracle would happen and Ziva would change her mind before the baby got there.

When he laid down to sleep that night, all those scenarios running through his mind, he knew that only one of them would be what he wanted. Never seeing her would be too painful, but then, having to see her belong to someone else could be just as painful. The only way this would all be okay would be if Ziva decided that she wanted to keep the baby, and that they could be parents.

_"We are not risking the wellbeing of our child..."_

_"With our jobs and our past and everything, maybe we should give her to a more stable home where she will be taken care of, and move on."_

_"I've already written down the name and number of an adoption agency in another area..."_

_"You should go." _

If only, he thought, that possibility was a little bit more likely.


	13. Chapter 13

**Pointing out that I suck at updating stories most of the time. When I used to write for other fandoms, it'd take ages. But because you guys are so flipping amazing, I'm updating pretty often. **

**So basically, you guys are awesome, and your support of this story is phenomenal. Thank you. **

**Now, is anybody as ready to get into Ziva's head as I was? **

* * *

A strong nudge to her ribs woke Ziva up at 0400 the morning after Tony had come over to talk to her. She turned slightly, shifting her weight and trying to get comfortable again. It had taken her ages to do so when she had finally calmed her nerves enough to lie down, and even once she was comfortable, it took her forever to actually fall asleep. She shifted again, and was rewarded with another quick nudge, this one a little lower. She winced slightly, deciding to give up and stop moving.

She closed her eyes, hearing Tony's words for the thousandth time. They wouldn't leave her alone no matter how hard she tried to shove them out of her mind.

_"You can be a mom, and I know you want to be. So why are you doing this?"_

_"But what about me, Ziva? Don't I get any say in this?"_

_"Ziva, please." _

She hated seeing him so hurt, tears in his eyes. He'd never been one to cry very often, and so seeing those tears had hurt her in a way that she couldn't describe, but she hadn't said anything that would let on what she was feeling. She had kept her face as blank as possible, turned away, and told him to leave, fighting tears of her own. He really was the best partner anyone could ask for, and breaking his heart was the hardest thing she had ever done.

She was doing the right thing, giving the baby up, despite all of that. Her little girl deserved to be given to a married couple who could take care of her without it ending up in an argument. Her little girl deserved parents with safer jobs, so she would never have to worry about them coming home. Her little girl deserved stability, with parents that could be home every single night to cook her dinner and tuck her in to bed after reading her a story.

Her little girl deserved nothing but the best.

She had thought, in the beginning, that maybe she and Tony could make it work. She had thought that maybe they could be parents to their little girl, even though they weren't together. Maybe it would be okay that they had let their emotions get the best of them, and everything would be fine. Then, they had started arguing and fighting all the time, and she thought that maybe she should at least consider her other option. And she knew that letting him think she was definitely going to keep the baby would be messy.

So she'd stopped answering his questions, stopped letting him know how things were going, stopped giving him any indication that she would keep the baby. She'd tried not to let her hand find that spot just above her belly button, where she'd found she liked resting it, when he was around. She tried not to gaze off and get too deep into thought, because he always seemed to know what she was thinking when she did that. She was trying to protect him, keep him from getting hurt worse in the end, if she decided that adoption was the best option.

She wasn't even sure when she'd really decided on one path. When he had gone with her to find out the gender, she had still been considering the option, but she was also still a little undecided. There had been a moment, right after the doctor told them it was a girl, that she'd lost her facade long enough for Tony to see it. She had saw the realization in his eyes, and she'd quickly pushed away the emotions that left her feeling so uncertain. Then, over the few weeks after that, she'd realized that the relationship between Tony and herself wasn't the kind of relationship a child should be born into. She had realized that she had been wrong, and it wouldn't work. It was too crazy, too complicated, too unstable.

Somehow, even with these thoughts running around in her head, Ziva fell back into an uneasy sleep, but when her alarm went off at 0600, she found she couldn't stand the thought of going to work and seeing Tony there, sitting across from her. So, she waited a half hour, wasting the time making herself something to eat, and called in to say she was taking her maternity leave. She knew it was, technically, a little early, but no problems arose, which she was grateful for.

An hour later, she was pulling out the information she had on the adoption agency, staring at the phone number with her phone sitting beside her. She reminded herself she was doing the right thing, no matter what Tony said. It still took her a decent span of time, however, to actually dial the number in front of her and hold the phone to her ear.

"ABC Adoption Service, Incorporated. This is Amanda. How can I help you?" a woman answered after two rings.

Ziva swallowed. "H-Hi. I'm calling to uh, see about... putting my child up for adoption."

The statement came out sounding like a question, and Ziva mentally kicked herself for sounding so strange. "Alright, can I get your name?"

"Uh, Ziva David."

"And can you give me your date of birth?"

The next thirty minutes was spent with Ziva answering a number of questions, like her birthday, marital status, how far along she was, and so on. She answered all of the questions very factually, keeping her tone level and professional. Somehow, treating the situation like that made it seem a bit easier. The woman, Amanda, seemed friendly enough, but her voice was a touch too peppy for Ziva's liking. Finally, after feeling as though she'd just told her entire life story, the woman asked a more difficult question.

"Now, are you aware of who the father is?" Amanda asked, her tone still bright.

"Uh... yes," Ziva said slowly, swallowing.

"And is he aware of the decision that you're making to put the baby up for adoption?" Ziva cringed at the pitch that Amanda now maintained, wondering if she would have gotten someone else if she'd called a different day or at a different time.

"Yes, he is." Ziva's nerves picked up slightly, and she felt her palms get a little sweaty.

"Alright, and is he willing to give up the rights he has as the birthfather?" Ziva couldn't help but think that her voice seemed entirely too chirpy now.

Ziva swallowed again, closing her eyes and rubbing a hand across her forehead. She hadn't even thought of that being a problem, and now here it was, staring her in the face, and she had absolutely no idea how to respond.

"Miss David?" Amanda's voice had dropped just enough to not be as annoying, and Ziva sighed, chewing on her bottom lip for a moment.

"How much of a, uh, problem... would it be if... if he is not too... happy with the idea?" she asked, running a hand through her hair nervously.

"Well, we can still proceed if you'd like, but... if he were to come forward at any time or if something else were to come up where he is concerned... there can be a lot of legal complications accompanying that." Amanda's voice was definitely lower now.

Ziva sighed, running a hand over her stomach, a lump forming in her throat. Did doing the best thing for her daughter really have to be that complicated? All she wanted was to give her little girl the best she could possibly have, but because her father didn't see things the same way, there was a problem.

"Miss David, would you like to talk more with him and get back to me at a later time?" Amanda asked, her voice back to its high pitched octave.

"Uh.., yes, I suppose. Thank you." She hung up, putting her head in her hands.

This meant she would have to talk to Tony, and try to get him to understand where she was coming from as opposed to yelling at him and just telling him it was the best decision. That would mean having to talk to him after what had happened, and she knew that wasn't going to be easy. She rubbed her eyes, feeling tired.

Her phone vibrated loudly against her wooden table, and she jumped, reaching out to pick it up. Tony had text her, and suddenly she felt like she had to throw up for the first time in weeks.

_Hey, just wanted to see how you were doing. I know things were bad last night, but I just wanted to check in on you. _

Tears stung her eyes suddenly, and she closed the message quickly, trying to blink them away. She couldn't understand how he was still trying to speak to her when she had hurt him. Of course, she hadn't meant to hurt him. She would never want to hurt him, but sometimes doing the right thing wasn't easy. If anyone should understand that, it was him.

She stared at the phone in her hands, her thoughts running wild. She knew, if she wasn't being a coward, she would just text him and tell him what she needed from him, and hope he would understand. Instead, she reopened the message and deleted it without giving the words a second glance. Sighing and already feeling exhausted, she got up from the table, leaving the adoption agency's information lying there where it was.

She walked into her bedroom, picking up the little onesie Abby had gotten her, letting her fingers run over the soft, pink fabric like she had when she'd first been given it. That was after she had started leaning more toward adoption, and it had been so hard to listen to Abby be so excited, knowing that she was going to wind up disappointing her, too.

The only sleeping pill she'd found that she could actually take was umison, and for the most part, taking half of the pill was enough to get her through a rougher night. That night, however, she took a whole pill in order to help her sleep, because she already knew she would need it. She knew there was absolutely no way she would get through the night with all of her sanity otherwise.

The next morning, a knock on her door woke her up, and she got out of bed, a small wave of butterflies in her stomach the baby's only response. She couldn't help but smile slightly at the feeling. Glancing at the clock, she saw it was nearly nine, and shrugged off the fact that she hadn't slept this late on a Saturday in ages.

Getting to the door, she opened it to see Tony standing there, his hands in his pockets and a look of determination etched on his face.

"Tony?" His name fell from her lips in the form of a question, and he made a face that she couldn't really decipher. She stood there, putting her hand on the doorframe, feeling awkward, waiting for him to speak.

"Look, I know that you're set on your decision, and so... I-I did some research earlier today because... it doesn't matter. Anyway, I was just combing through some stuff and saw that... uh, pregnant mothers who are looking into adoption can have problems if the... if the birthfather isn't... _on board_ with the decision, if he doesn't want to sign away his rights as the biological father. So... if you're..." he paused, struggling. "If you're so set on giving our baby up, and I thought about it... and I know that... my daughter deserves _two_ parents, and not just one, which is... that's why I'm not going to try to get her if you don't want to be part of it... I just- I want to be part of the decision. I want to meet the parents, talk to them, help make the choice of who we want to have her."

Ziva stared for a moment, her entire body in shock. She swallowed, trying to process what he had just told her. "You... you want to... to help pick the adoptive parents?"

He nodded quickly, looking uncomfortable and shoving his hands as deep into his pockets as they would go, and she felt her heart break, because she knew that this had to be difficult for him. She couldn't get the images from the other night out of her mind, when he'd cried and basically begged her to keep their child. There wasn't any way she could tell him no, anyway, but regardless, she nodded, too, her reply simple. "Okay."

He cleared his throat, closing his eyes briefly, and then he was staring into her own again, a new, sharper edge there. "I promise I won't try to sabotage anything in the process, but there is something you should know. Every single moment that I'm doing this with you, I'm going to be trying to get you to change your mind."

And Ziva felt her heart drop down into her stomach, because looking into his set, determined eyes, she was suddenly very afraid that he might be able to do just that.


	14. Chapter 14

**As always, you guys are the absolute best. But you knew that ;) **

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The following Monday, Tony went over to Ziva's apartment after an uneventful, shorter day at work and was sitting across the table from her when she called the adoption agency back, letting them know that the baby's father was, in fact, on board with the decision she was making, and wanted to be as involved as possible in the choice of who the adoptive parents would be. The conversation started out with the adoption agency doing most of the talking, leaving Ziva playing with her fingernails or running her fingers over the smooth surface of her table. She seemed to be doing everything she could to avoid looking at him, only a few feet away from her.

He waited rather patiently, staring at his hands on the table as she talked with them, catching next to nothing of what the other end of the conversation was, his heart telling him he shouldn't be going along with this. His hand twitched several times throughout the conversation, and he wanted nothing more than to rip the phone from her hand and hang it up, tell them that they weren't interested after all. Part of his mind was screaming at him, demanding to know what he was thinking, being cooperative when he didn't have to be.

He had to make himself look away from her face, so blank, so serious. He'd told her he wouldn't stop trying to get her to change her mind, and he'd meant it. However, when he combined the unemotional look on her face and her professional tone, he wondered if telling her that had only hurt his case. What if she saw it as a challenge to be taken? He knew how she could get when she was challenged on anything. It usually made her work that much harder to beat it.

He hadn't even planned to tell her that in the first place. The night before he'd come to talk to her, while he'd been tossing and turning, he'd realized that if Ziva really was going to let another family have his baby, he should at least be able to approve of whoever it was. Then, when he'd found himself standing at her door the next morning, his heart racing and his palms sweating, he'd had blurted that out, and suddenly realized that, even though he was being cooperative, he wasn't anywhere near giving up. Now, though, he was worried that he hadn't helped himself at all by throwing that possible provocation at her.

He caught sight of a picture on a shelf a few feet away, and found himself staring at it. It was of them, at their office Christmas party from just over a year ago. You could barely see the sleeve of his father's coat on the edge of the picture, sitting in the seat beside himself. Gibbs and Ducky were in the background, laughing at something, looking cheerful in the light of the movie on the screen. Abby had taken the picture, pulling out her camera halfway through the movie and telling them to smile. They had, of course, because it was Abby and it was Christmas. Something about those two things being combined made them willing to do nearly anything.

It was a good picture, he thought, and one he had only seen a select few times. He knew Abby had a copy of it somewhere, and he knew that Ziva had one, and he even knew where it had always been. Somehow, however, seeing it in light of the current circumstances made him have to fight tears.

He looked back at Ziva, and she was watching him. Her eyes were glossy, and when his eyes met hers, she quickly looked away. She rubbed at the corner of her eye, and he sighed, trying not to look too deeply into that. She cleared her throat slightly, replying to whatever the person on the other end of the line was saying. "Yes, I understand." Nobody else would have noticed the slight hitch in her voice, but he did. She repeated her previous statement again, and her tone was back to normal this time.

He looked back at the picture for the briefest moment, recalling how happy they had been then. Somehow, getting stuck in an elevator together a few months prior had done wonders for their relationship, and when he remembered that time, he remembered being really happy with where they were. It had taken them a while to get back to a genuinely good place after everything that had happened after he shot Michael, and that was the year they'd finally put those last few pieces back together, he thought. That had been the year they'd grown closer, the year they'd connected in a way that he wasn't entirely sure he could explain, but he didn't want to, anyway. Trying to explain might take away the magic of it.

It was a time that they'd needed each other more than anything, because it wasn't exactly the easiest year for either of them. They'd been each other's strength when they'd needed it, and their laugh when they'd needed that. And throughout it all, that was the year he'd realized how deep his feelings for her really ran.

He looked back at her, barely catching her watching him again. She stuck to her routine of looking away hastily, and said a simple "okay" into the phone that sounded final, and he was shocked to see that the conversation had winded up being so short. He waited as she said a quick goodbye and hung up the phone, pursing her lips and looking back at him.

"So?" he asked, twining his fingers on the table in front of him.

She took a breath, placing the phone carefully on the table. "They want to meet with both of us, and they... uh, they said that once they've talked with us they can start getting us a list of potential parents."

He nodded slowly, squeezing his eyes shut for a moment, fighting to keep himself together. "Okay," he said carefully, taking a deep breath.

Ziva nodded, too, chewing absentmindedly on her bottom lip for a moment before speaking again. "Tony..."

He met her eyes, and there were questions burning in them. "What?" His voice was scratchy, and he cleared his throat, keeping his eyes on her with some difficulty.

She broke eye contact, though, her eyes finding a random spot on the wall and staying there. For a moment, he thought she was going to shrug off whatever it was, say it was nothing, let it be forgotten like the never-ending list of things they never talked about again. Then, she looked back at him.

"Why... Why are you doing this?" she asked, her voice level.

He took a moment to assess her, trying to decipher what she was thinking. Failing at that, he sighed, running a hand through his hair and shrugging. "I just... I figured if you were going to be so stubbornly set on doing this, I might as well get to help pick who she winds up with."

"Can I ask you a question, then?" Her voice was quieter now, and she was looking down at the table, picking at a random fingernail.

"Yes," came his simple reply.

"If you are so set against this option, why do you not take her? I know you said that you think she needs two parents, and that is true. I believe that. But I know you do not want to do this, so why are you?" She still wouldn't look at him, and she was still picking at the fingernail without doing anything to it.

His eyebrows came together as he processed what she'd just asked. "Exactly that, Ziva. The knowing she needs two parents that will take care of her outweighs the want I have to keep her." He stopped, thinking of a way to explain his motives when he knew that he didn't technically owe her anything. "I know... I know what it's like to grow up without one parent there. It's tough enough when that parent... passes away. I can only imagine how it would feel if you had to have your dad try explaining to you that your mom... that she... you know..." He waved his hand, not wanting to say the words aloud for fear of them being upsetting. "I would never want my daughter to have to go through that."

Ziva nodded slowly, pursing her lips. She stopped playing with her fingernail and instead picked the phone back up, turning it over in her hands. "Oh."

He stood, and her eyes met his for a fleeting moment. "I'm, uh, going to go. Just... let me know when you want to... meet with them, and I'll make sure I clear up a spot in my schedule."

She nodded again, and he suddenly felt like the biggest jerk in the universe. "Okay."

He gave her a polite smile and went to leave her apartment, feeling drained. All she had done was call the adoption agency, but that by itself had made everything all too real. He hadn't even been able to hear the exact words on the other side of the conversation, but just being able to hear the murmur of whoever was talking on the opposite line of the phone was enough to break his heart even more.

He heard Ziva get up from the table when he got to the door, and her footsteps went into her bedroom. He briefly thought about apologizing, but he knew that no matter how guilty he felt, he didn't owe her an apology for what he'd said. He put on his coat, reaching into his jacket pocket and realizing that he'd left his phone on her table.

When he went back to get it, he heard Ziva's voice coming from her bedroom, and curiosity got the best of him. He walked down the hall and stood outside of the door, listening closely.

"This isn't easy to me. He probably thinks it is, but it isn't. This is what's best for you. I know there are going to be times when you're going to question it as you grow up, but I promise... this is the best decision for everyone." Ziva's soft voice reached his ears, and he found himself shocked at the affection there.

Ziva was right- it did seem like this decision was easy for her, but he knew in his heart that it couldn't be. He had told her as much when they'd fought, telling her that he knew she wanted to be a mother. That was one of the things he'd used to try to get through to her. That had been one of the things he was almost sure would work.

Except it hadn't, yet.

He slowly backtracked, feeling as if he was intruding, and left quietly, not alerting Ziva that he was still present in the apartment. Once down in his car, he sighed, leaning his head back against the headrest. He had left his sonogram in his car, and he picked it up, staring at the image that he had memorized by now. It was strange, he thought, the emotions that hearing Ziva's words had given him.

Somehow, in those few seconds, he had reignited a hope that maybe, just maybe, this entire situation wasn't a lost cause. Maybe, if he just didn't give up, he could get Ziva to keep their baby after all.


	15. Chapter 15

**you guys rock and stuff. **

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Meeting with the adoption agency winded up being much more troublesome than Tony had expected. They asked too many questions that made him feel uncomfortable, like what kind of parents they were hoping to find for their child. The question seemed ridiculous to him. How were they supposed to know what kind of parents they wanted their kid to have other than the fact that it, apparently, wasn't them?

What made it worse was the fact that Ziva sat there as formally as possible, her hands crossed in her lap, making the whole thing seem like it was a business deal and all she had left to do was sign the contract in black ink. It made him feel sick, and he couldn't help the sigh of relief that escaped him when they finally left.

At least Ziva was talking to him again, in a way. Things still felt tense between them, but she was talking to him about the baby now, letting him know how appointments were going and if they thought she was going to be early or not. They told her that it was only a guess, but it didn't seem like she would make it full term. He wasn't sure how doctors could be able to tell that, and he didn't really care to know. What mattered was that Ziva told him that little snippet of information without him asking, which he was beyond grateful for. It made him feel like maybe there was a chance that they could fix themselves, that maybe everything wasn't completely lost.

A week after they met with the adoption agency, they were sent a list of potential parents and their information. That night, Ziva invited Tony over to look at the list and figure out which ones they wanted to actually contact. Dragging his feet, he arrivedat about seven, feeling like he was betraying his daughter and trying his best to put on a smile as if it didn't bother him at all.

"Hey,"Ziva greeted him conversationally when she opened the door. She left it open for him and walked into the living room, where she had a slim stack of paper sitting on her living room table.

"This must be the fun part, huh?" he asked without thinking, sarcasm lacing his tone. His remark earned him a glare that he ignored as he sat down beside her, leaving a reasonable amount of distance between them.

"They sent us five to begin with," she said simply, spreading out the five sheets of paper in a row. Her nonchalant demeanor still made him feel sick to his stomach, but he tried to shake the feeling off as he looked down at the papers in front of him.

"The Harmons, Georges, Allans, Slatons, and DeWitts."He listed out the names, looking at the pictures in front of him and trying to keep himself from snatching all of them up, ripping them into an uncountable amount of pieces, and setting them on fire.

Ziva nodded slowly, reaching out to pick up the first one. "The Harmons are both teachers, which is likable, I think. They are unable to have children because of a condition that the wife has had since childhood. They're a few years younger than us." She put that page down and picked up the next one. "Mr. George is a salesman, and Mrs. George is an attorney."

"I don't like that very much. An attorney? No, next." He took that page from her, setting it to the side.

"Tony." Ziva's voice was agitated. "You cannot place judgment on someone just because of their occupation."

"I can," he retorted, feeling angry. "I did. Moving on."

She rolled her eyes, and he rubbed his neck, regretting even deciding to come at all. He should have just told her he'd meet all of them one at the time or something. It definitely would have made things a lot easier on his part. Or maybe she was getting snarkier as she got closer to her due date and it wasn't him at all. Or maybe he just really didn't want to do this, and no matter how many times he said he would be cooperative, he never really would be.

He couldn't be sure which one it actually was. Maybe it was a combination of the three.

She continued after another prompt glare his way and picked up the next sheet. "Mr. Allan is a teacher and Mrs. Allan is a pediatrician. They just want to adopt children because they feel like it is their... good deed to society."

"They sound like goody two shoes kind of people," Tony commented, shrugging. He was grateful that this comment didn't seem to be as terrible, as Ziva didn't make a remark about it. "Who else is there?"

"The Slatons are both teachers, as well. They gave us a lot of teachers, for some reason. They can't have children at all, either." Ziva continued her description of the couples, her face thoughtful. "And then Mr. DeWitt is a pharmacist and Mrs. Dewitt is a secretary at a school."

Tony nodded slowly, looking at the coupl**e's** profiles, with the exception of the attorney's**,** processing the information he found there. He stared at the names that meant nothing to him, but yet meant everything, the pictures of people he'd never even heard of before, but **whom he **would have to meet and decide if they were the people he wanted to give his daughter to after she was born.

"Tony, did you hear me?" He jumped slightly, looking over at Ziva, who looked impatient. He realized with a wince that she had been talking and he hadn't been listening. He offered her an apologetic glance as she repeated her question. "Which ones do you want to meet first?"

_None of them. _"I guess the Harmons. They sound... nice." He sighed, picking up their sheet and staring at the picture of two blonde haired people that wanted his baby girl.

And he suddenly wished that he hadn't made the promise of not sabotaging the entire thing.

"We absolutely love children- we both have, as long as we can remember," Mr. Harmon was saying, his smile way too wide. Tony forced himself to listen and not look like he wanted to rip his ears off. "Then, we realized that because of my wife's condition, we couldn't have children of our own."

A sad shake of the head was thrown in here by the wife in question, and he noticed that Ziva was wringing her hands together under the table.

"What grades do you teach?" Ziva asked, her voice overly polite.

"Third and **f**ifth," Mrs. Harmon replied, smiling just as widely as her husband had previously. Tony could see why they had wound up together. Two peas in a pod described them quite well.

"Are you willing to have an open adoption?" Tony asked out of the blue, leveling his eyes at Mr. Harmon, ignoring Ziva kicking him under the table. It was an important question to him, the only one that truly mattered.

"What do you mean?" Mr. Harmon asked, his voice losing a bit of its luster.

"I mean, if I want to see her at any time, or get pictures, or whatever, can I?" Tony said, keeping his sweet smile almost as wide as theirs no longer was.

The couple looked at each other for a moment, communicating only with their eyes. Tony felt jealousy spring up in him, because he and Ziva used to be able to do the exact same thing with ease that others couldn't possibly begin to understand. He looked over at her, sitting next to him, and she was sending him a glare that would have made Satan run for the hills. He looked away just as the couple turned back to them.

"We would rather you not actually see the child once she's born. Pictures we can do, but no actual contact would be made." Mr. Harmon twined his fingers together in a professional manner on the table, and Tony mentally put an "x" over their page in his mind.

"Well, thank you, Mr. and Mrs. Harmon. We will be in contact at some point." Tony smiled, and he could feel Ziva's glare strengthen.

"Oh, are we finished?" Mrs. Harmon asked, looking surprised. She put a hand over her heart in shock and Tony had to dig his nail into his palm to keep from sending them a look that let on to what he was thinking.

Tony went to speak, but Ziva kicked him under the table again. He fought back a wince this time, grimacing slightly regardless. Thankfully, neither of the two sitting in front of him noticed, as they were focusing on Ziva. "Yes, that is all we wanted to know. We will be in touch. Thank you for coming by."

It took a moment to usher the two out of Ziva's apartment, but once they were gone, Ziva turned to him, her glare icy. "What the _hell_ was that?" she spat angrily, crossing her arms over her chest.

"They weren't going to let me see her, Ziva. At all. I didn't like it, and I'm not letting them adopt my daughter. We'll go to the next couple." Tony explained himself, shrugging.

"You said you weren't going to sabotage this!" **s**he reminded him in a matter-of-fact tone.

"I didn't!" he yelled in return, throwing his arms out in a defensive gesture. "I just asked a question and they didn't give me the answer that I wanted!"

Ziva leaned back against the door, rubbing a hand across her forehead. "What is it you want, Tony?"

He put his hands in his pockets, swallowing and looking down at his feet. "I..." He thought about not telling her anything, because they were both pissed, and knowing his luck, the outcome wouldn't be too admirable. "I just want to... to know she's okay, and that maybe... maybe this really is what she needs." He felt his feelings for Ziva running deeper than anything else, pushing away the anger he felt, and he lifted his eyes slowly back to her. "I'm sorry I asked the question so blatantly and that I was rude afterwards, but that's all I want, Ziva. I want to be able to see her every once in a while, and be able to talk to her. I know that isn't what you want, but it's what I want."

She looked as if she were going to argue with him about something, but she stopped, nodding slowly. "Okay. I guess we will just get that... issue out of the way before we invite another couple over, yes?"

"Or..." He hesitated, wondering if it was the best time to do this. "We don't have to do this."

"Tony..." Her voice was tired, and he nodded in understanding. _Not tonight._

"Right." He let out a heavy sigh, shrugging. "So, I vote no on them, obviously."

She shrugged slightly as well, biting her lip to avoid smiling, and he knew she agreed with him before she even spoke. "I did not really like them either."

He smiled at the comment that seemed a little bit more like the pre-pregnancy Ziva, getting his coat and putting it on to leave. Her smile fell then, and the new Ziva was back, eyes and face void of emotion. He looked at her for the longest moment once he'd put his coat on, not only because she was still leaning against the door, but because he couldn't pull his eyes away from her. Just over seven months ago, she had been his best friend, a person he could go to for anything. Then, suddenly, everything around them had been turned to ashes.

Now, she was giving away their baby because it was a mistake and they weren't good enough. Now, she was only talking to him because she had to in order to avoid legal trouble with what she wanted to do. Now, looking at her broke his heart, because he had to look really hard to even recognize her.

He missed his Ziva more than anything in the world, but staring into her eyes that night, it felt like no matter how hard he tried, or how many times he thought he saw glimpses of her again, he would never get her back.


	16. Chapter 16

**A guest told me this story was starting to sound like Worthy and I quote "that would be annoying". First of all, _the author of Worthy is my proofreader_. She has literally read every single chapter before I've even thought about publishing it. I think if my story was too much like hers, she would have said something. Second, her story is longer, for one, and mine is not going the same direction as hers. I know where it's going, and it's not down the same road hers is. We good? Okay, thanks. **

**Enjoy the chapter. I'm sorry updates are taking so long. I'm on my last semester of my senior year of high school, and life is insane. I love you guys, though. You're the best. 3**

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Even though he put off meeting another couple for a week, eventually Tony had to surrender and meet with the second couple they picked from their list: The Slatons. When the couple first walked into the apartment, he had to admit he liked the look of them. Though he couldn't quite put his finger on it, there was something about them that made him feel comfortable. They were dressed nice, but they weren't overdressed by any means. They both had small, polite smiles on their faces and they looked just a bit younger than they actually were. They didn't have the same arrogant feeling he'd gotten from the first couple, and they seemed very genuine when they shook his hand and told their names: Daniel and Theresa.

When they were finally all seated at Ziva's table, the two began describing their jobs. Tony listened with as much enthusiasm as he could muster, and after a moment, he looked over at Ziva, who was supporting her chin with her hand, but listening intently from what he could tell. Her eyes had this strange glint to them that he couldn't figure out, but he wasn't really looking to try. He turned back to Mr. Slaton, who was explaining a particular child in one of his classes whom had made an impact on him.

"That's why I do what I do, after all. If I can make a difference in a child's life, then it makes all the difficult times worth it." Mr. Slaton smiled at the end of his statement, and Mrs. Slaton took that moment to speak up.

"It really is the most wonderful feeling."

Tony looked back over at Ziva, and there was a small moment of nonverbal communication before she nodded slightly and he turned back to the couple in front of him. "So," he began, "You already said you wouldn't mind... letting me see her once she's been adopted."

"I think that would be perfectly fine. I've heard that many adoptive kids set out to find their real parents at some point anyway. Perhaps if she knows you already, it would not be as much of a problem. I would hate for her to feel as if she needed to go out of her way to look for someone who already wants to see her," Mrs. Slaton said.

"Either one of you could see her, I think. Just let us know ahead of time when you'd like to do so, and we can arrange everything in a civil manner," Mr. Slaton added with a gesture of his hand.

"I... I would be fine with just pictures," Ziva replied, smiling despite the fact that she had started rubbing her arm nervously under the table.

"That's alright, too." The couple nodded, smiling as if they could possibly understand the motives behind Ziva's request. Tony looked over at her out of the corner of his eye, wishing with everything inside him that he could just say a word and make her change her mind and usher the couple out politely, saying that they would be in touch, when they actually wouldn't.

Thirty-five minutes later, with the majority of the concerns covered, they all stood. Though Tony thought they were about to leave, Mrs. Slaton pulled Ziva to the side and started talking with her, leaving Tony and Mr. Slaton alone in the living room.

"You guys seem really nice," Tony offered, putting his hands into his pockets and fighting to keep his eyes on Mr. Slaton's face and not on something else in the room, because anything else would have been much easier to focus on. He hated that he needed to be polite to these people, no matter how much nicer they seemed than the last couple.

"Thank you," Mr. Slaton responded, and he hesitated before continuing. "I get the feeling that you aren't completely on board with this decision, though."

Tony swallowed, his eyes finding a painting on the wall to stare at, giving up his fight to look at the man standing in front of him. He considered lying, but he honestly didn't care enough to do that. "Well, if we're being honest here, I'm not. I... I want to keep her. I want to keep her pretty bad, actually. Ziva doesn't, though. And my kid deserves two parents, not just one. I figured... Well, I want whoever gets her to take care of her, you know? I want the assurance that she's going to be okay with whoever she goes home with when she's born. So here I am."

"I see." A few seconds of awkward silence passed before Mrs. Slaton and Ziva came back from where they'd been talking. Ziva seemed a bit uncomfortable, and yet she managed to smile at the couple as they were leaving. When the door had closed, she sat down on her couch, leaning her head back and sighing.

"I liked them." She spoke quietly, her eyes fixed on him.

"They were... nice," Tony offered lamely, feeding her a statement similar to the one he'd just given Mr. Slaton. He shrugged, and looked away from her. The happiness he saw on her face was too much for him. He didn't want to see the satisfied expression she was portraying, glad that she'd found a couple she wouldn't mind letting take her baby. _Their_ baby.

"You did not like them?" An edge crept into her voice, and he backtracked a little, not wanting to make her angry at him. Not tonight.

"I didn't say that."

"Well, did you?" The edge jumped up a level and a hint of a demand became apparent as well. Sighing, he rubbed his tired eyes.

"They were fine, Ziva. Just fine. Okay?" He tried to keep the irritation out of his voice, opening his eyes to see her watching him carefully.

"Are... What is wrong?" she asked, sitting up almost as straight as she could considering the circumstances.

"Nothing," he lied, grabbing his coat and putting it on. By the time he had done so, Ziva was standing and walking toward him, her eyes narrowed.

"You are lying."

He offered up a mental stream of profanities as she leveled her eyes at him, almost as if she were willing him to snap at her without even realizing it. "You're right, Ziva. I am lying, but for the love of all that is good in the world, I am just trying to make you happy. Okay? I could still be as difficult as a mule if I wanted to be, but I'm here, and I'm just trying to do the best I can, all things considered."

"What does that mean?" Her voice raised an octave and her leveled eyes turned into a glare.

"I don't want to do this!" he finally yelled, throwing his hands up in exasperation. "I don't. I am only doing this because the only other choices I have are to raise my daughter by myself without her mother or to sign my rights away without even knowing who the hell is going to wind up with her. But I don't want to do this. There are a million painful things that I would rather do than to give her away. Every single time I meet a set of parents-"

"We've only met two," she interrupted, crossing her arms over her chest.

"It doesn't matter, Ziva!" he snapped, angry tears now threatening to spill. "Because meeting them makes me sick. I can't stand looking into their eyes, trying to be all nice and polite when they might wind up taking my little girl away from me."

She squeezed her eyes shut, running a hand through her hair. When she opened them, there was something else hiding behind her still angry facade. For a split second, her eyes clouded and she took a shaky breath. Then, she blinked hard once, and it was gone. Feeling defeated, he zipped up his jacket and opened her door to leave.

"Tony." Her voice stopped him, and he turned back to her, swallowing.

"What?" He nearly spat. She went to speak, but then she winced, and her hand flew up to a spot on the side of her stomach. His heart jumped, his anger dissipated, and he was by her side before he could register moving. "What is it?" His voice was no longer sharp.

She winced slightly again, and then, strangely enough to him, she bit her lip, a small smile turning up the corners of her mouth. "Nothing, Tony. It's fine. She just... she kicks some uncomfortable places sometimes."

Tony felt his heart dropping into his stomach and his throat closed up. He took a step back, trying to keep his breathing steady. He swallowed, taking a shaky breath before asking, "She kicks?"

Ziva looked at him for a long moment, as if deciding whether or not this was something she could share with him. Then, she nodded. "Yes, she kicks. They aren't too strong most of the time, but every once in a while she has a really good one."

He nodded, his throat feeling so tight he couldn't even swallow. His eyes were burning and no matter how much he blinked, the sensation wouldn't go away. "Oh."

Ziva still had her hand on the spot where, apparently, the baby had kicked. She was looking at him with the strangest expression that he couldn't even begin to decipher, but then, suddenly, he saw the guard she'd been holding up for so long drop just a little to give a better look at the emotion he'd seen glimpses of earlier.

"Do... do you want to feel her?" The question came out a little breathy.

His breath hitched slightly and his heart was pounding so hard it was beginning to become painful. "Yes," was his simple reply. She gestured to him, lifting her hand and allowing him to put his where it had been.

"Just wait a second," she told him, her voice soft.

It did take a moment, but after a few seconds, he felt it. It wasn't much, just the slightest little nudge underneath his hand, but that was all it took for one tear to slide down his cheek. He kept his hand there as his little girl kicked again, and then he somehow got his voice past his throat enough to attempt speaking. "How... how can you feel this... every single day and... and still want to let her go? This... this is the most amazing thing I've ever... and I just... I can't see how you can..." He stopped, more tears dangerously close to falling.

She took a moment, sighing. "Because... because I know..." she hesitated, taking a calming breath before continuing. "This is what's best for her. She needs two parents that are together, and not as dysfunctional as we are. She needs two people who are going to be there to tuck her in, and not out late on more than one night a week working. Feeling her kick me... I cannot explain to you how that feels, Tony. All I can tell you is that... this is not easy. It is very difficult, but it is what she needs."

"What if we could do it, though?" he asked, feeling the baby kick, almost as if she were cheering him on. "I think we could. Maybe... you're just looking at it from the wrong angle."

"Tony, I... This is what is best. She needs to have two parents who are going to love her and love each other and..." Her voice hitched and she wasn't looking at him anymore, but he barely noticed. Her words were already slicing through him and tearing him apart. "And that... is not us. We simply made..."

"Yeah," he interrupted quickly. "I get it, Ziva. I get it."

He let his hand slip from her stomach, from his daughter, and took a step back. Ziva had tears in her eyes, but the weight of that fact was lost on him. Knowing that she didn't love him as much as he loved her was making his heart break even further, and knowing that was one of things assisting her decision to put their baby up for adoption made it hurt even worse. He was fairly certain that now, there wasn't anything left of his heart to break. He felt himself nodding, but he honestly wasn't entirely sure of any of his actions at the moment, other than the fact that he was headed toward the door to leave.

Her voice stopped him again. "Tony..."

He turned back once more, not even sure what emotions could be portrayed on his face. She had cleared her own emotions, however, and her eyes were dry. "Yeah?"

"So... what did you think of them? I need to know." She was resigned now, her voice quiet. The guard had been put back up on everything except for how exhausted she was. Now, she sounded just as tired as he felt.

"Yeah, they're great." He shook his head, tears threatening again. "And I don't want to meet any more sets of parents. I'm done."

He went to leave, but stopped again. He had one more thing he needed to say. "And you know what, Ziva? Not everybody thinks that what happened between us was a mistake that we need to try moving on from. Some people have never thought of it that way."

He slammed the door a little too hard behind him, tears finally falling as he walked down the hall. He passed a woman on the way to the elevator that looked at him funny, but he didn't care. He felt like that was his last attempt to pull her out of whatever it was that made her want to give up the baby, but it hadn't worked, because she didn't love him and that was why she thought the baby would be better with someone else. When he got into the elevator, he leaned his head back against the cool metal, wanting nothing more than to go drink himself to the edges of oblivion in the comforts of his empty apartment.

And so, that's exactly what he did.


	17. Chapter 17

**How amazing was that NCIS episode? Now, as a gift, take this chapter and the first glimmer of hope since... well, ever. **

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The night after she and Tony met the Slaton couple, Ziva stood in the same spot for a few minutes after Tony had left, finally letting the tears she'd been holding back spill down her cheeks. The baby was still moving around where she was, and Ziva kept her hand over the spot she was kicking, telling herself over and over that she was doing the right thing for her.

Tony, apparently, still seemed to think that this whole process was easy for her, when in all reality, it was the hardest thing she'd ever done. He had been right when he'd told her, on a night that seemed farther away than it actually was, that she wanted children. She did, but not like this. Not when she and Tony had just messed up on one night when they both needed comfort. Not when they both were in high risk jobs that put their lives in danger every single day that they left their homes. Not when they worked late nights more than once a week and, as a result, neither one of them would be there to tell her goodnight and tuck her in.

_"She needs to have two parents who are going to love her and love each other and... And that... is not us."_

_"And you know what, Ziva? Not everybody thinks that what happened between us was a mistake that we need to try moving on from. Some people have never thought of it that way."_

For some reason, those words were the ones she kept playing over in her head the next day, when she was cleaning up around the house because she didn't have anything better to do. The words they'd exchanged had been so direct and harsh. She didn't even know why they were doing this to each other, to be honest. It seemed like every single time they were in close proximity lately, things ended in an argument, and they winded up saying things that they knew would hurt each other. They kept pushing each other, making snide remarks until one or the other stormed off angry or they just gave up fighting, because neither one of them really had the energy anymore.

That was why she'd told him that they weren't the right parents for their daughter. She'd seen how much those words had hurt him the second after they'd left her lips, and the guilt hit her only a second after that, after it was too late. She hated hurting him, but yet she seemed to be doing it more often than usual.

She'd told him that their daughter needed parents to love her. Did they fit that description? She allowed herself to consider the possibility for a moment. There was a certain amount of love between them, she supposed. They'd been through a lot together over the years, and they had built a relationship from it. They were best friends, she knew, but past that?

She wasn't entirely sure.

Then, there was what Tony had said. He couldn't mean that as literally as it had sounded, could he? What had happened between them was a mistake, because it was a late night after a tough case, and that was all. They had let the circumstances get the best of them, and they'd messed up. That was all it was, right?

But what if it wasn't?

What if that night had just been inevitable? What if the circumstances had just been the push they'd needed to finally give in to what they'd skirted around? Ziva knew that their relationship had always been tricky, to say the least. The relationship that they had built over the years most definitely had not been easy. Maybe this was where it had all been headed in the first place. What if she had just been looking at it the wrong way the entire time? What if her perspective had just been a little off throughout the fallout of what they'd done?

She remembered the day after they'd slept together, when she'd avoided him because she was sure that they had just messed up in a time when they needed comfort for all the lives they'd let slip away before finally catching the person responsible for taking them. She remembered telling him to forget about it because that was what they needed to do. That was before she knew the consequences that would follow their actions. Before she knew they would wind up where they were.

Maybe she'd just been wrong the entire time.

She shook her head, trying to shake the thoughts with them. She had come too far with this to start doubting herself now. She was going to do what was best for her daughter, because she wasn't ready yet. She wasn't sure if she'd ever be ready. Plus, Tony had said himself that he couldn't do it, and if he couldn't, how could she be expected to?

She paused in the middle of dusting off one of her shelves, honestly not even sure why she was going through the trouble. Moving around certainly wasn't as easy as it had been eight months ago, and her place wasn't even very dirty. She caught sight of the picture Tony had been studying so fiercely when she'd called the adoption agency back, the one of them at their office Christmas party from over a year ago. It was still sort of funny to her, because part of her knew that Tony had only stuck so closely by her that night to keep his father from being inappropriate with her. She hadn't minded, though. That night had winded up producing one of the very few pictures she actually had with him, which was why it stayed proudly in her living room even now.

She wondered if she would wind up taking it down one day, if things between them never got better. If their relationship never repaired, would she be able to look at that picture of them every day? They were both so happy then. Things were going fairly well at Christmas of that year, and they had been closer than ever. That was only a few weeks before her father and Jackie had died, and the happiness had been taken away for a while. Somehow, they had found it again at some point, in the midst of all the murderers, terrorists, and other miscellaneous criminals. They had found their balance again within a few tough months, just like they always had.

A knock on her door pulled her out of her thoughts, and she put the towel in her hands down to go answer the door. When she opened it, she saw Abby standing there, wringing her hands together nervously.

"H-hey," she stammered, giving Ziva a small wave.

"Abby." Ziva couldn't hide her surprise, but she opened the door wider and let Abby in.

"So... Tony talked to me, and-"

"He should not have done that, Abby. I am sorry," Ziva interrupted, internally cursing Tony for not keeping everything quieter.

"Well, he needed someone to talk to. That's all. Don't get mad at him. Anyway... I just..." Abby hesitated, still twining and untwining her fingers repeatedly. "I wanted to let you know something. Even though I don't understand completely why you're doing what you're doing, and in all honesty, I really wish that you would just... you know... keep your baby... but, if this is really what you think is best, then I support your decision."

Ziva felt her heart drop to her stomach at her friend's words, and she bit the inside of her cheek. She squeezed her eyes shut, shaking her head. "Abby, I-"

"I just... you know, I'll make sure I come by when you have her, so I'll get to meet her and all. Do you know... who's adopting her yet?" Abby was keeping her voice a little too upbeat.

"Abby-"

"I mean, I don't understand why you're doing this, but I could try to, I guess. I know it must not be an easy decision, because that wouldn't make sense. I mean, a parent should want to keep their child, right? It has to be tough to decide that you want to let someone else just take the child you carried inside you for nine months and-"

"Abby!" Abby stopped mid-thought at Ziva's exclamation, and she looked over at her expectantly.

Ziva tried to avoid Abby's eyes, but she didn't succeed for very long. After a moment, Abby got into her line of sight, her eyes curious. "Ziva... What is it? Talk to me."

Ziva sighed, allowing herself to look Abby in the eye. There were so many excuses or reasons she could come up with to satisfy Abby and get her to leave sooner rather than later, but if she was being honest with herself, she was extremely tired of having to do that. It was an exhausting thing to keep up in order to avoid hurting other people's feelings. So, when she spoke, she spoke honestly. "I appreciate you supporting my decision, even if you do not understand it," she said, her heart feeling heavy as she spoke, finally admitting what she had been denying for far too long. "But... honestly, I... I do not know anymore."

Abby's eyebrows came together, and her hands finally paused in their motions. "What do you mean?"

Ziva swallowed, wondering how much she should be sharing, but deciding against holding back because in all honesty, she was sick of doing so. "I feel like... this is the right decision for her. I have felt that way for a while now. She would be happy, and with two parents who could be home every night to tuck her in, and... it would be good for her. She would be just fine."

Abby sensed her hesitation, and she sat down on the couch, patting the space beside her. Ziva couldn't help but let a small smile turn up the corners of her mouth as she sat down. "But?" Abby encouraged, seeming open to anything that Ziva would say.

"But... there is a part of me that doesn't just want to give her away. She is mine, and... it is not easy to think about doing that." Ziva pursed her lips.

Abby put an arm around Ziva's shoulders. "That makes sense. You want to do what's best for her, but you don't want to let her go so easy. You're her mom, not someone else you barely know, right?"

Ziva nodded. "But she would be better off with a couple who is together and married happily. She needs two people with normal, safe jobs that can take care of her better than two dysfunctional NCIS agents."

Abby rubbed Ziva's shoulder. "When I say this, know that I'm just telling you what I think, okay?" When Ziva nodded, she continued. "I think you're wrong. I think... I think that if you and Tony were on the same page instead of a completely different one like you are right now, I think you two could do this. I think that... you are shortchanging yourself when you say you can't take care of her, because I think you can. That's just what I think. If you still think it's best to let someone else take her, then okay. That's what you think is best. But just know that I think you could do it."

"But what if we couldn't?" Ziva asked, her voice trembling slightly, though she desperately wanted to believe the words she was hearing.

"You'll never know if you don't try," Abby replied. "You still have time to think about this. Don't feel like you're already stuck in one decision."

"I know I am not," Ziva said, sighing. "Maybe I should just say that both options are still open?"

"You should," Abby said, putting her hands on Ziva's shoulders to make sure she was looking at her. "_Because they are_. If you have been going through this thinking any differently, then you should stop now. Because you don't make the final decision until the baby gets here, and we've still got a few weeks until then."

Ziva nodded, letting the words sink in. Somehow, in the span of five minutes, Abby had done what nobody else had been able to do: make her doubt herself. "How did you do that?"

Somehow, Abby seemed to know exactly what she was talking about. "I think that you've been thinking this for a while, because I know Tony's been trying. Maybe you just needed one more push to actually admit it."

Ziva swallowed, feeling tired. "Thank you, Abby."

Abby smiled. "No problem. Do you want me to talk to Tony?"

Ziva hesitated. She hated fighting with Tony, but telling him the details of the conversation that had just occurred probably wouldn't help matters any. "No. Do not tell him anything, please. If I still decide that giving her away is the best option... I do not want to get his hopes up, only to have them destroyed again."

"Okay," Abby said, her tone understanding. "I'll see you, okay?"

"Okay," Ziva replied, watching as Abby left. She put her hands on her stomach, where the baby was relatively still. She felt a small nudge and she smiled. "I promise you, sweetheart, whatever I decide will be what's best for you."

And she knew she would. No matter what happened, her daughter was going to be just fine. Now that she was being honest with herself, however, she just wasn't sure which of her options would succeed in accomplishing that.


	18. Chapter 18

**I'm taking wayy too long with these, I know. But we're getting into the height of the story, and I'm trying to get the ending worked out the way I want it to and make sure I like it and blah blah blah. So, my apologies for the delay. :) **

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A week had passed since Tony had last seen Ziva, since she had cut away the final sliver of hope he had that he would actually get to keep his little girl, and not just know her through pictures and scheduled meetings. For a small period of time, he had allowed himself to believe, to dream, that maybe things would work out. He had gotten his hopes up just high enough that being knocked down pulled him lower than he'd ever been before.

The nightmares, which had been strangely calm throughout the process of looking into adoptive couples, came back in full swing, torturing him almost every time he closed his eyes. Then, somehow, they got a little worse. Now, instead of the bump present on Ziva's stomach simply disappearing, he kept seeing a figure in the distance. It was small, a little blurry, and completely faceless, the only clear image being a head of dark curls.

Despite the fact that this mental representation of his daughter was actually present in the dream, it didn't ease his mind at all. In fact, seeing her there made it that much harder to stomach. She was there, in the distance, where he could see her, but there was nothing he could do about it. It was similar to the dreams many people have of walking down a hallway or corridor, but they're not actually going anywhere. In his new, edited dreams, his daughter was there- it was obviously her- but no matter how hard he tried to get to her, she was just out of his reach every time.

Late one night, sitting in his bed with his head in his hands after waking up from a dream that seemed entirely too realistic, he found himself pulling out the picture he had of Ziva from Paris, so many years ago. That had been a tough year for them, whether anyone had realized it or not. He had dragged her back from the edge of hell despite the fact that their last encounter had been anything but pleasant. He'd brought her home, and they had spent that year sneaking around each other's feelings, keeping most of their statements safe enough to maintain the ever so thin balance they had reformed of their relationship.

They had managed, of course. In fact, by the time they had been sent to Paris to pick up their witness, they had worked out the few little kinks, and were on the way to really, truly being okay again. He had taken the picture when she wasn't paying any attention to him, he remembered. That was one of the things that made it so spectacular to him. He had captured her in a moment when she wasn't trying to put up any fronts or be anyone but herself. She wasn't worrying about how she looked. It was beautiful to him, and it had never stopped being his absolute favorite picture of her.

He wasn't even sure why he had pulled out the picture other than the fact that it was something he'd always held close in tough times. Somehow, no matter what was happening, that simple picture of her never failed to make him smile. This time, though, the happiness was much briefer than he remembered.

It was a job in itself to get up go to work for that week after his fallout with Ziva, because every morning he couldn't find the inspiration to even get out of bed. Eventually, though, it became automatic, mechanical. He fell into a pattern that didn't drain him as much as any other would have. He got up, put on clothes, went to work, stayed later than he probably needed to, came home, and watched his television until he thought he could attempt sleep, not actually paying attention to what was on the screen.

At work, he knew he was slacking, but most days, he couldn't bring himself to care. He was getting something done, however, because doing something kept his mind occupied. Most of the tasks were small, simply busy work, and his pace was nowhere near its usual speed. He felt like the little wind up toys that they show on depression medicine commercials all the time on television, where it has to be wound up with a little mechanical twist on its back to get it going, but even then, it barely goes. He'd always thought that concept was silly when he saw it portrayed on his television, but suddenly, the image made much more sense to him.

Hell, maybe he _was_ depressed. How was he supposed to know?

One day, exactly a week after Tony and Ziva had practically ceased communication, Gibbs pulled him to the side in the hall outside interrogation, a look of harsh determination etched into his features. "What the hell is wrong with you?"

Tony shrugged, but spoke honestly. "I tried really hard to get Ziva to think about keeping the baby, but... I don't think it made any difference."

"You don't know that," Gibbs replied simply, but the words were lost on Tony's ears. "And this spaced out thing you've got going on? It needs to stop."

"If I could just turn it off, I would," he said, shrugging again.

"I need you," Gibbs stated firmly. "I need you to be able to do your job right."

Tony nodded and blinked hard once. "Okay, got it. I'll do my best, boss."

Gibbs' expression softened. "I know that if she winds up giving up that baby, it's going to hurt. I'm not asking you to be okay, DiNozzo. I'm asking you to find a better way to deal with it than shutting yourself down."

Another firm nod from Tony, and Gibbs walked away. Sighing, Tony leaned back against the wall for a moment, letting one tear fall. He wiped it away quickly before it could travel too far down his face, and then he swallowed, took a deep breath, and followed Gibbs back to the squad room. He couldn't help but wonder how hard it would actually be to force himself not to shut down, when shutting down was so much easier than any alternative.

"Where's Gibbs?" Tony looked up when he heard Abby's voice, immediately taking note of the fact that her eyes widened just the slightest when she saw him.

"He stepped out. He should be back soon." Abby nodded and turned to walk away, but he stopped her by speaking. "Abby?"

She turned back around, her eyes bright. Too bright. "Hm?"

"What's up with you?" he asked, narrowing his eyes.

"I... nothing." She smiled, as if this helped her case.

"Abby?"

"Anyway, I have to get back down to the lab, because I'm sure that Ducky has sent something up to me from our dead guy downstairs by now, and so I should probably go check on that. Jimmy might even be looking for me so he can give me something, and I need to get down there before he starts trying to look too hard. Sometimes, he gets lost even though he's been here for so long. It's actually pretty funny. Anyway-"

"Abby." His voice successfully stopped her, and suddenly, realization dawned on him. "Did you talk to her?"

The disconcerted look on her face showed him that he was right in his assumption, but Abby was already speaking. "It was a me and her thing, okay? I..." she hesitated, moving her hands in a way that indicated she was searching for the right words. "I just had a heart to heart with her, just between me and her. You shouldn't worry about it, okay?"

"Did it have to do with the baby?" Another question slipped past his lips, and he felt desperate to know something, anything.

"I really do have to get back," was Abby's only response, and then she was gone.

And even though she hadn't answered his question, her response was all the answer he needed: yes, it had been about the baby.

Sighing, he stood and made his way toward the elevator. When he got to it, it opened to reveal Gibbs, who was holding a fresh cup of coffee. "Where are you going?"

"I... I just... really need some air," he stammered out, pleading silently that Gibbs let him go. "Abby's looking for you, too," he added, hoping it would help.

"Go. Get back as soon as you can."

Tony felt relief flood through him and he made his way outside. It was a warmer day, thankfully, and the cold spell they'd had was nearly gone. He put his hands in his pockets and walked slowly along the path, trying to figure out how much badgering it would take to get Abby to talk to him.

Maybe he shouldn't bother. Abby had made it pretty clear that it was a personal conversation, and if she didn't seem to want to tell him, maybe it was best he didn't know. Maybe the conversation had just been a repeat of all the ones he'd had with Ziva over the past few months. In that case, it wouldn't benefit him any to hear how that talk had went.

Sitting down on a bench, he closed his eyes, trying to picture a reality where everything was going to be okay no matter what happened. For the first time, he genuinely tried to accept the possibility of getting to see his daughter periodically. Maybe it would be okay that he would have to get approval any time he wanted visit her. It could really be worse, he supposed. That was what he had to tell himself to actually see that likelihood as a bearable one.

"Can I please have an ice cream?"

For some reason, the small, high pitched voice asking an otherwise unimportant question pulled Tony out of his thoughts. He opened his eyes to see a girl, who looked as if she were about four, pulling on the pants of a man he assumed to be her father.

"No, sweetie. You don't need an ice cream. It might spoil your dinner." The father's tone was gentle yet firm in his denial of her request.

Then, however, the little girl, with her bright blue eyes and soft brown hair poked out her bottom lip, her eyes widening to the point that she almost looked like a puppy begging for a treat. The father sighed, and hesitated, but then he smiled down at his daughter.

"Okay, I guess one ice cream cone won't hurt."

A grin lit up the little girl's face, and she laughed. "Thank you!"

A minute later, she had her small ice cream cone in her hand and she was walking down the sidewalk happily, her steps carrying a bounce to them that made people around her stop and smile for a moment. When they were just about out of his eyesight, the girl reached up with her free hand and took her father's, smiling up at him with enough affection to stop a war.

It was one of the most beautiful things he'd ever seen. He wondered if that father was a single parent, or if there was a mother that would be at home with them that night. Maybe the mother was cooking them their dinner, and they had to get home to her. The little girl looked happy, like she'd had everything she'd ever wanted or needed. There was probably a mother in the picture that took care of her, and told her all the things she would need to know.

He couldn't dwell on that for too long, he knew, because pondering those questions for too long would pull him back down into a state that didn't help him do his job at all. Of all the things he didn't want to happen, pissing off Gibbs was very close to the top of the list. So, he rolled his neck around, listening as it popped once or twice in the process.

Then he stood and headed back inside the building to do his job, the one thing that might actually keep his mind occupied long enough to get him through another day.


	19. Chapter 19

**Thanks for sticking with this, even with the prolonged updates. You guys are the absolute best. **

A week after Abby came to see her, a brief doctor's appointment told Ziva that her baby was already in position to be born. She was only at thirty-seven and a half weeks, but they told her, once again, that she would probably give birth a little earlier than her full forty weeks. She asked them if that would cause any problems, and they quickly assured her that anything past thirty-six weeks for girls was usually perfectly fine.

Short. To the point.

She was in and out of the doctor's office much quicker than any of the other times, which she was grateful for. Doctors made her uncomfortable more often than not, and she felt herself relax when she walked back out. It was warm, and Ziva couldn't help but smile. March had turned out to be a very pretty month, and spring had come a little early this year.

She walked back to her car, where Abby was waiting. When she got in, she expressed her gratitude to Abby for bringing her to her appointment.

"No problem," Abby said as she pulled out of the parking lot. "I'm sure you didn't want to drive."

"No, I certainly did not," Ziva replied, giving Abby a smile.

"Have you... have you thought any more about what we talked about?" Abby asked, her hands holding the steering wheel a little tighter than necessary.

Ziva sighed, leaning back against the seat. She looked out the window at the flashes of buildings going by. "I... I do not know."

Abby nodded, pursing her lips, but didn't push the issue any further. Instead, she changed the subject. "Tony knows I talked to you."

"Abby-"

"I didn't tell him! He figured it out. I was just... I asked him where Gibbs was and when I went to leave he just... knew. I'm not sure how he knew, but he did. I didn't tell him anything though. I just told him that we had talked and that was it." Abby's voice was rushed in her hurry to defend herself.

Ziva sighed, rubbing a hand over her face. "I am not angry with you, Abby. You cannot help that he has somehow acquired intuition."

"Must be all those years working with Gibbs," Abby mused, and then she turned on the radio to fill the silence that fell.

When they were almost back to her apartment, Ziva put her hand over the spot where she knew the baby was. She stayed still, seeing if she could feel any movement. There was a slight shift to the right that she could barely feel, but that was it. She swallowed, her nerves picking up just the slightest.

"Ziva?" Abby's voice was concerned. "What is it?"

"She... she isn't moving very much," Ziva told her slowly.

"What does that mean? Is that bad?" Abby's eyebrows came together. Whether the reason was confusion or concern, Ziva wasn't sure.

"It could mean... that she is almost ready. I read somewhere that before labor, the baby stops moving as much." But how long before was that? She tried to remember exactly what the article had said, but she couldn't recall if it had given a time period for when that was supposed to start happening. It might have even been one of the things that was different for every woman.

"Like... how almost ready? A day? A couple hours? Do I need to take you to the hospital?" Abby's voice was definitely more concerned now, and her eyes were wide.

"No, no. Just take me home. It is fine, Abby." Ziva smiled at her, noting that there was another soft kick, just below her belly button. "I think."

"Okay, but do you want me to stay with you? Just in case?" Abby had calmed down, but she still seemed a bit more panicked than necessary.

Ziva hesitated, once again trying to remember how far ahead of labor the baby stopped moving as much. She couldn't even remember which book or magazine she'd seen it in. She looked over at Abby, who was pulling into the parking lot beside Ziva's apartment complex. "No. If I need you, I can call."

Abby nodded, but still insisted on going up to Ziva's apartment with her. At the door, Ziva thanked Abby again, and once she'd closed the door, she took a deep breath. The baby moved, shifting again, a little to the left this time.

She walked into her bedroom, combing through the few books and magazines she had, trying to see if she could remember which one she had seen the pre-labor symptoms in. She wasn't even sure why she was looking. If she was close to going into labor, the doctor would have told her, right?

Finally, she found one of them, but it didn't help her much.

_"Activity of baby - The baby may become slightly less active as labor approaches. You should still feel the baby move several times an hour - if you don't, call your health care provider immediately."_

All that told her was that movement decreased as labor approached. How much time was that supposed to account for? She spent another ten minutes trying to find any other information, but after that, she gave up.

Five minutes later, she was sweeping her kitchen, feeling nearly restless. After a moment, though, her stomach started hurting slightly. She stopped what she was doing, figuring that it was just the "practice" contractions her doctor had told her to be wary of. Racking her brain, she tried to recall the name. Braxton something? She wasn't sure, but she knew they were another sign of approaching labor. She put the broom down and walked to the bedroom, and by the time she'd done so, the pain had faded.

She sat down on the edge of her bed and sighed, noting that the baby was shifting again, which was good. Unsure of what she was supposed to do, she decided that she didn't need to actually go to the hospital until her water broke. Besides, maybe she was still a few days away from going into labor, and these symptoms would just last until that point.

So, that night, still keeping a close check on how much the baby was moving and still experiencing a few of those practice contractions in her abdomen area, she went to sleep, figuring she wasn't going into labor any time soon. However, when she woke that morning at about two, the bed sheets beneath her wet, she realized exactly how mistaken she had been.

She didn't panic, however. She just took a quick shower, got dressed, grabbed the bag she'd had packed for two weeks now, and took it into her living room to sit it by her door. While she was doing so, a contraction started in her back. She winced slightly, barely remembering to take note of the time. Then, she went and got her phone, staring at her speed dial list and trying to decide which person she should call.

Gibbs would come and take her to the hospital, she knew, but should she bother him? He had strange sleeping patterns and could even still be awake, she thought. However, she'd told Abby she would call her if anything happened. Abby, too, would be more than willing to take her to the hospital.

Sighing, she let her eyes drift to the number still occupying the first slot on her speed dial. She could call him, but he hadn't really spoken to her in two weeks. How would he react if she called him and told him that she was going into labor? Would he come get her?

She pressed her hand to her forehead, deciding to just call Gibbs. The phone only rang once before he answered. "Ziver?"

"Gibbs. Did I wake you up?" she asked, her voice shaking for reasons she couldn't explain.

"No, not really. You know me. You need something?" His voice was open, gentle, and she felt as if she'd made the right decision calling him.

She took a breath, clutching the phone in her hand. "I need someone to come take me to the hospital."

There was only a brief pause. "Your water break?"

"Yes," she told him.

"Okay, hang tight. I'll be there soon."

The line clicked, and she sent a quick text to Abby, who she knew was probably asleep, but would be awake long before she actually had the baby. On a whim, she opened back up Tony's contact information, hesitating only briefly before hitting the "call" button. She listened as the phone rang once, twice, three times. She was entirely convinced he was either very deeply asleep or ignoring her when the phone stopped ringing.

"Ziva?"

"H-hey." She started rubbing her arm nervously.

There was a brief moment of silence before he asked, "What is it?" She took some relief in the fact that the question wasn't delivered harshly.

"I... I just... I thought I would let you know that... that my water broke. Uh, I called Gibbs to come get me and take me to the hospital."

There was another silence, this one much longer. "Why didn't you call me first?"

"I... I did not want to bother you," she tried to explain, realizing that he was right.

"It's my kid, Ziva. I would want to know that you're going into labor." He was shuffling around now, she noted. She heard a drawer open, and then his closet door.

"I know, sorry." She paused, playing with the fabric of her shirt. "Do you want to be there?"

She knew he was getting ready to go, but she couldn't help asking. "Yeah, Ziva. I want to be there. You have time, though, right? I can take a shower?"

"Yes," she replied simply. "I will... uh, see you when you get there. I can get someone to text you when I know what room I'll be in."

"Okay." The line went dead, and finally, the realization of what was happening dawned on her, and she sat down on her couch, tears starting to slip down her cheeks.

This was it. In the span of the next day, depending on how many hours she was in labor, her little girl would be here. She would finally be forced to make the decision that she had struggled with. She had been set on one decision, and then she hadn't been so sure, and then she'd been putting off thinking about it.

Now, she didn't have a choice. She was going to have to decide what was best for her baby. Should she call the Slatons, just to be safe? Maybe she would do that later. She'd have to call the agency, too, and make sure they got all the paperwork, if adoption was what she decided to do.

The baby shifted, just slightly, and it almost felt as if she moved a little lower this time. Ziva put her hand over the lower part of her belly, letting her thumb run over where she could feel the baby's foot. She felt a little bit of pressure coming from the spot, as if the baby was trying to stretch, and she couldn't help but smile.

"_I love you_," she told her firmly, another tear slipping down her cheek. "I hope that no matter what, you know that."

Five minutes later, Gibbs was knocking on her door. "You got a bag?" he asked when he walked in. She gestured to the duffel bag she had sitting by the door, and he picked it up, slinging it over his shoulder. Finally, he turned to her, and she wondered if she looked as scared as she felt. She guessed that she did, because he reached up and smoothed her hair down, leaning forward to kiss the side of her head.

"You're gonna be okay, Ziver." His voice soothed her, and she felt herself relax. "Good, you need to relax. Keep your blood pressure down."

She nodded, and when he wrapped an arm around her shoulders on the way down to his car, she felt herself relax even more. Somehow, the scent of bourbon and sawdust together was more comforting than she'd ever imagined it could be, and when they were in his car, she found herself talking to him.

"I called Tony, told him what was going on." Gibbs didn't say anything, and she continued. "I know he really wants me to keep her, and I... do not know what he has told you, or how bad he has made me seem, but if I do wind up letting that family adopt her, it is not because I don't want her."

"I think he knows that," Gibbs told her softly.

"It will be because I think it is what's best for her," she added, looking at his face for any indications of what he was thinking, but it was pointless. He was, and would always be, a very difficult person to read.

"Is it?" was the only response she got.

She opened her mouth to answer him, but closed it quickly. A silence enveloped them, and she felt the baby squirm just the slightest bit- like she was trying to get herself ready. Finally, after a long moment, she looked back over at Gibbs as he got to a red light. He looked over at her as well, his face expectant, but she knew that he wasn't making her give him any answers if she didn't want to.

However, she found herself telling him the truth, anyway. "I... I do not know."

And then she looked away, forcing herself to take deep breaths and stay calm, even though every part of her was screaming for help, because even though she'd spent weeks adamantly telling Tony, and herself, that adoption was the best option, she suddenly wasn't so sure about anything anymore.


	20. Chapter 20

whoa, I'm alive? yeah, no, I'm pretty dead. Berlin killed whatever was left of me. But as far as updates are concerned, hey, here's one. Sorry it took so long. I have approximately 9 school days and 23 total days until I graduate high school. Plus, I have to write a speech for my graduation and I'm wearing myself out trying to get scholarship applications filled out. And also with NCIS at the point in the season it is right now, I can hardly focus well enough to write. But I'm getting there, promise. And if you're still reading this, you deserve a cookie. Okay, go on now.

* * *

_"...my water broke..."_

_"Do you want to be there?"_

Tony had dealt his fair share of fears. Children and dogs were near the top of the list of things that scared the daylights out of him, but he'd managed to get past those with a little bit of a push. Hell, he'd been working at NCIS for more years than he cared to count, and had come face to face with danger countless times. Over the course of his employment as a federal agent, he'd been put in compromising situations with killers, kidnappers, and terrorists that could have easily taken his life from him. He'd known the fear that came with knowing you were about to die. Firsthand, he had experienced the "life before his eyes" concept, and firmly decided that the idea was much less climatic in real life than they made it seem in movies. A few times, he'd even felt the terror that accompanied the feeling of life slowly leaving your body, with no power to do anything about it.

But none of that compared to the fear he felt when he'd heard Ziva tell him she was going into labor. Nothing, no training or near death experience, could have ever prepared him for that moment.

When he'd hung up the phone, he'd sat there on his bed for a few minutes, his brain trying to catch up to what was happening despite the fact that he still wasn't completely awake. Somehow, through the haze of his thoughts, he managed to get into his shower. The water was too cold, but still did nothing to increase his alertness. When he got out, he realized that he didn't really feel clean, and found himself trying to remember if he'd used his soap properly.

He was shaking while he was getting dressed, his hands not wanting to function properly enough to button his shirt straight- he had to redo buttons two or three times because he'd buttoned them wrong. It took him three attempts to put his pants on properly, and even when he'd managed to do so, zipping them up was another task entirely.

Throughout this tedious process, he kept hearing her voice over and over in his head. He hated the way she had sounded on the phone. She had sounded almost... scared. And no matter what happened between them, he couldn't stand to hear that in her voice. It took him back to a time when he sat across from her in a place far away from home. She'd been a ghost that day, sitting in front of him despite the fact that she was supposed to be dead. Everything had changed when he saw her, dread lying beneath the surface of her attempt at a tough facade. He'd seen right through it though. He had known she was scared.

That was when a terrorist had been determined to mercilessly torture information out of both of them or just one of them, if it came down to that. When it seemed there was no way that Ziva, McGee, and himself would make it out of there alive. What exactly was she scared of now? Having the baby? Giving the baby away? There were plenty of options to choose from, but which one was the right one? Maybe she was terrified of both. Maybe there was more for her to be afraid of, reasons he couldn't even begin to fathom.

He wasn't sure.

Throughout the process of getting ready, his mind was still working overtime while his body functioned almost robotically. Finally, about the time he was ready to walk out the door, his brain caught up to the situation and realization reared its ugly head. He had just picked up his keys, but had to stop and sit down on his couch for a moment, his heart racing and his nerves jumping erratically.

This was it. Today, he was going to meet his daughter, and then most likely hand her off to someone else. The day he'd had so many different feelings toward was staring him in the face, and now that it was, he wasn't sure how he was supposed to feel about it. Should he be excited about the day his daughter would be born, or should he dread the day that he gives his daughter away?

Going back into his bedroom, he pulled out his daughter's sonogram from his night stand. The edges were a little bent, and it was a little wrinkled, but he could still see her just fine, in the middle of the picture. He wondered what she would look like, how big she would be, if she would look more like him or Ziva. He wondered if she would have her mom's ninja senses or his quirky humor. A tear slipped down his cheek as he ran his thumb over the surface of the picture, wanting nothing more than to go back to bed and wake up from this nightmare that he'd been living in for far too long. Sighing, he tucked the picture into his pocket and headed out the door.

His phone rang while he was getting in his car, and the caller ID informed him that it was Gibbs. He hesitated briefly before hitting accept, suddenly terrified of what conversation would unfold when he answered. "Hey, boss."

"You coming?" _No formalities, of course_, Tony thought.

"Yeah, I just got in my car," he said as he started the engine. "I'm not sure why I'm bothering, but-"

"Because Ziva's here in labor with your kid. That's why," Gibbs interrupted, and Tony sighed, feeling his brief rush of spite dissipating.

"Yeah, but if I meet her, how am I going to be able to give her away?" he asked genuinely, begging for Gibbs to have an answer to the biggest question burning in his mind. He swallowed, his throat feeling too tight.

There was a long pause, and Tony felt tears stinging his eyes. He looked up, blinking, willing himself not to cry while he was on the phone with Gibbs. "Tony..." The sound of his first name coming from the phone startled him, and he listened intently. "I don't know what's going to happen today, other than the fact that Ziva's going to have this baby. But no matter what happens, this is the last chance you're ever going to get to change her mind. So get your ass up here and make it count. Don't just roll over because it's easier. I taught you better than that."

Tony went to respond, but the line went dead, and he put the phone in his pocket. He closed his eyes for smallest span of a moment, taking a deep breath and trying to prepare himself for the long day he knew was ahead of him.

"This is the last chance you're going to get," he repeated to himself, knowing that, as always, Gibbs was right. Glancing at the clock, he told himself that getting some coffee would be his first task when he arrived at the hospital.

There was no way he'd make it through this day without it.

Gibbs met him outside when he got there, his face carefully stern as usual. "She's in room 213," he said, walking inside with him.

"How is she?" Tony asked, unsure of what he was supposed to ask and sticking with something safe.

"Doing fine. Abby's in there with her right now. She's only at two centimeters. We still got a while."

Tony nodded as he processed this information, and he rubbed his palms on his jeans nervously. Gibbs stopped in the hall in front of Ziva's room, turned, and looked at him. "Heartbeat's good. She's in the exact position she should be in. Everything's gonna be fine, DiNozzo."

"I wish I could believe that." His voice winded up being much more somber than he'd intended.

And when Gibbs didn't say anything in return, Tony swallowed. "I'm... I'm going to go get some coffee from the hospital cafeteria."

"Not yet. Go see her first." There was a firm edge to Gibbs' voice that Tony couldn't argue against, but it didn't stop him from trying.

"We haven't really talked in a while, and I need coffee, and-"

"DiNozzo." Gibbs shook his head. "Go."

Frowning, Tony took a deep breath and knocked on the door. "Come in," he heard Abby say, and he opened the door. Seeing that it was him, Abby quickly excused herself, much to Tony's dismay, and left.

He took note of the fact that Ziva looked pretty relaxed, trying to ignore all the machines and wires. "Hey." His voice was shaky, and she gave him a weak smile.

"Hey."

Pursing his lips, he sat in the chair Abby had just vacated next to the head of the bed. "How are you feeling?"

She nodded. "I'm fine, just tired. I got a little bit of sleep when I first got here, and then they started having to come in and check on me all the time. They have to keep a check on the contractions, dilation, and... uh... the heartbeat. If... if you listen, you can hear it."

"Yeah, I can hear it," he breathed, listening closely to the rhythmic beating.

"She's pretty close to the sensor for it, so that is why it seems like it is very loud," she explained, and then she bit her lip. She looked up at him with wide eyes, and for the briefest moment, he thought he saw fear hiding behind her gaze. "Tony, I... I am sorry-"

"Don't," he interrupted, not sure if he wanted to drag up the things they should apologize to each other for right now. "Let's just... get through today, okay?"

She nodded slowly, leaning her head back against the hospital's version of a pillow. "This pillow is terrible."

He chuckled lightly. "I'm sorry. Hey, I'm going to go get me some coffee, okay? I'll be around."

He stood, hesitating only briefly before reaching down to push her hair back from her forehead and pressing a quick kiss to her temple. He lingered, whispering "It's going to be okay" against her skin despite the fact that he didn't believe the words. She gave him a look that he couldn't interpret when he pulled back, but he left before he could give it any thought, trying to get the sound of the baby's heartbeat out of his head. Outside, Abby gave him a sympathetic look before going back inside the room. He ignored it. If there was anything he wasn't in the mood to accept at the moment, it was sympathy.

When he rounded the corner to head to the cafeteria, he saw the nursery windows and couldn't help but look inside the one window that didn't have a blind down. There was one baby in the room, a boy, lying on a little bed. A nurse was walking toward him, a blue blanket in her hands. The baby wasn't really crying, but was whining softly. The nurse got to him, a smile lighting up her face. She tucked her pinky finger into his hand, smiling down at him. Almost instantly, the baby quieted and she proceeded to wrap him up.

"Something else, isn't it?" A voice startled him, and he turned to see a man who looked a bit younger than him.

"Uh, yeah," Tony agreed, feeling uneasy.

"He yours?" the man asked, smiling.

"No. Uh..." What was he supposed to say? My baby hasn't been born yet? My baby's mother is in one of the labor and delivery rooms? "No," he said again, sighing.

"That fellow sure looks healthy. Whoever his parents are sure are proud, I bet. I think all parents are proud though, no matter what. It's part of being a parent." The man was babbling insistently, unaware of the tension building in Tony's shoulders.

"Yeah." Tony tried not to snap. "Well, it was nice talking to you."

Then, he turned and walked on down the hall, trying to think of anything but what was happening, because he knew if he let himself think about it too much, he would drive himself insane before he'd even had a chance to get his first cup of coffee.


	21. Chapter 21

Sorry for the delays with updates. I'm done with school now other than graduation practice and graduation next week, so maybe I'll get this story finished out by the end of June at the latest. It depends. Anyway, thanks for your patience!

* * *

Ziva had never been more terrified in her life. As someone who had practically dismissed the idea of ever having children, being in labor scared her. The contractions hurt and she was uncomfortable no matter how much she repositioned herself. At one point about five months into her pregnancy, she'd considered going to classes that were supposed to help you prepare for labor, but she had decided against it. As she laid in the hospital bed fighting to keep herself calm, however, she was second guessing that decision. The classes, of course, would have helped prepare her for labor, but that wasn't really what she was so afraid of. She dreaded what was to come after she actually had the baby, because she had absolutely no idea.

Did she let Tony sign away his rights to a child that she knew he wanted to keep? Would she wind up keeping her, and then she and Tony could try figuring out the rest from there? Would she let a wonderful and deserving couple adopt her child? She was still leaning toward letting the baby be adopted, but was that the best option? It had to be, right?

She didn't have much time left to decide. She was dilated five centimeters now, and her contractions had gotten a little closer together. She'd already been there for nearly six hours, and they would give her an epidural soon, which sometimes sped up the process. She was running out of time.

What if actually holding the baby made her think less clearly? Would she forget about the baby's best interest once she was holding her in her arms? Ziva felt like crying and screaming all at the same time, because there was no way in hell she was ready to make this decision. There were too many things to consider, too many details that could change everything.

She had thought that everything to figure out was settled, but all of a sudden, she didn't know anymore. Everything she thought she knew seemed different now, and her mind was fighting a battle with her heart that she wasn't sure either would win.

"Abby, what if I do not make the right choice?" Ziva asked quietly when Abby had once again sat down at the chair near the head of the bed. She still felt the lingering touch of Tony's lips on her forehead, and she did her best to hold back the shivers that wanted to rack her body.

"You will," Abby replied, putting a gentle hand on Ziva's arm. "I believe in you."

"That makes one of us," Ziva said bitterly, leaning her head back and staring at the ceiling. Tears stung her eyes, and she mentally cursed at herself. She was so tired of crying.

"I know this is probably the last thing you want to hear right now, but you should probably talk to Tony about this one more time." Abby's voice was firm but careful. "I know you guys have tried, but you haven't really been listening to him and he hasn't really been listening to you. But regardless of all, she's his daughter, too, Ziva. He deserves to know what you're thinking where all this is concerned."

Ziva closed her eyes, trying to will away the irritating burning sensation in them. "I know that, but what am I supposed to say?" Her voice came out a little sharp, and she shot Abby an apologetic look.

Abby shrugged it off, leveling her eyes at Ziva softly. "Why don't you just tell him the truth? Ziva, _you_ want to keep this baby, too. Why is that so hard for you to admit?"

Ziva shrugged, knowing she was being stubborn. A tear slipped down her cheek, and she wiped at it angrily, swallowing past the knot in her throat. "Abby, Tony and I are... not... together. We _cannot_ be parents. How would we make that work? Would one of us have to move in with the other, or would we just have to... to practically share her? I could take her one night, Tony another. What kind of life is that for a child, Abby? And Tony and I have done practically nothing but argue since this whole situation started, so what makes you think we can raise a baby correctly?"

"I don't know much about babies, but I'm pretty sure there's no way to raise them correctly, Ziva. It definitely isn't supposed to be easy." Abby put a hand on her arm. "And you're worried because you and Tony aren't together? I... I don't want to sound intrusive, but.. I mean, do you _want_ to be?"

Ziva shot a look at Abby, her heart missing a beat. She looked away quickly, pursing her lips. "Well," she tried, but then just looked at Abby, feeling a bit defeated.

"You do," Abby pointed out, nodding almost as if to herself. "Well, why don't you tell him _that_, too?"

Ziva racked her brain in an attempt to articulate a response, but when words didn't form, Abby sighed and stood. "I can't help you if you aren't willing to help yourself, Ziva. I don't know what the actual problem here is, but whatever it is-"

"I am scared," Ziva interrupted, the words slipping out on their own accord. "Of everything. Of being a mother to a child that I do not know if I am ready for. Of messing up a relationship that does not even exist with someone I care about because we got ourselves into... all of this. Of disappointing the people that want me to have this baby. Of hurting the couple that wants to be able to have a baby of their own but cannot do so." Frustrated tears slipped down her cheeks, and she wiped them away before they could get very far. Her voice was rising, and she tried to take a deep breath. "No matter what I decide, someone is going to get hurt. And when all of this is over... I have to do what's best for her."

Abby pursed her lips, wrapping her arm halfway around Ziva's shoulders and giving her an almost awkward hug. Ziva felt a few more tears falling, but this time she didn't reach up to wipe them away. Instead, she leaned into Abby, seeking comfort that would be fleeting, gone in another moment. "Ziva, no. You have to stay calm, okay?" It took a few moments, but Ziva took enough slow breaths to calm her racing heart. Once she had done so, she tried to relax. "There you go," Abby murmured, looking sympathetic. "Look, I'm going to go get Tony, okay? You two really need to talk right now. No more tiptoeing around. No more making excuses to not tell each other the truth. No more pretending to listen when you really aren't. _Talk _to him, and _listen_ to him. It's a two-way street."

Ziva nodded slowly, though the idea of talking to Tony at the time was not a pleasant one. Abby held her tight for another moment before standing and starting to leave. "You're going to make the right decision, Ziva," she told her just before she slipped out the door, and Ziva wiped under her eyes again, suddenly feeling like she desperately needed to sleep even though she knew the odds of that happening were slim.

A few moments later, Tony was walking back into the room, a coffee in his hand. He once again took a seat in the chair by the head of the bed, setting his coffee on the little table beside her. Even though she knew that she was tired, he looked tired, too. Not just physically, either. He was wearing the same emotional and mental exhaustion as she was. "Abby said you wanted to talk to me." His voice sounded tired, too.

"I think... " Ziva hesitated, trying to reign in the fear tormenting her. She needed to do this. "This is going to happen today. And... throughout all of this, we have hardly done anything but yell at each other and fight and... I think that it is time we just... be honest? But no matter what, I am tired of fighting with you."

"Me, too." Tony's eyebrows came together, but still he encouraged her. "I'm listening."

She took a breath, letting it out slowly. "You know I want to keep her, right? That I am just trying to do what is best for her?" she asked him, unable to meet his eyes for more than a few seconds at a time. His gaze was intense, and it made looking at him a difficult task.

After she asked that question, however, he looked away from her, and she waited as he seemed to struggle for a moment, his eyes shining in the light streaming in from the window. He blinked once, hard, and it was gone. Finally, still not looking back at her, he nodded. "Yeah, I know that, and I see where you're coming from, too, but..."

"But?" she prompted, trying to take Abby's advice. Trying to hear what he had to say.

"I think you've been looking at it the wrong way. I think that if you tried looking at... all of this differently, you might see it..." He trailed off, shrugging.

"Differently," she finished for him, sighing. "I do not know what to do. I do not know what is the right thing."

He looked back at her finally, and she saw a fear in his eyes that mirrored her own. "Me either. I know what I want, but... this isn't really about what I want."

Her heart tugged painfully, and her next words came out choked. "I do not want to hurt you."

He chuckled bitterly, shaking his head as if in disbelief. She wanted to say something, anything to take away the hurt on his face, but what was she supposed to say? A knock came from the door, and upon letting the visitor know they could come in, they saw that it was a nurse, there to give Ziva her epidural. Tony stepped out while they did so, and Ziva didn't take her eyes off of him until he was out of the room.

"This may make you move along a little faster," they told her, and she nodded absentmindedly at the information.

When Tony was able to come back in the room, he stood instead of sitting. Ziva felt her throat closing up, and she tried to swallow past the discomfort, but it didn't budge. The room was silent for the longest time as he stood there, a look of contemplation on his features. Finally, he sighed and ran a hand through his hair. "Look, I'll support whatever decision you make, but... I really do think we could do this."

She looked at the monitor that showed her contractions as she spoke, trying to keep her voice from shaking. "I... I really wish that I could tell you I will keep her, and that everything will work out well, but I... can't, Tony. I cannot guarantee anything, but giving her to someone else... that is a sure way to be certain she is always in a stable home. She would have everything she wants or needs, and... I am not sure I want to take a risk here."

The entire time she was speaking, Ziva had been looking anywhere but at Tony, and finally, she let her eyes travel back to him only to find that he was looking out of the window again. She followed his gaze to where a bright blue bird was sitting on a branch right outside. For some reason, it had captured his attention. She watched him closely, waiting for him to look over at her and say something. He was silent for a really long moment, and then finally, he nodded slowly. "Okay." His voice was low, defeated. It broke her heart.

That was all he said, and even if she had wanted to, Ziva honestly wasn't sure what she was supposed to say to stop him when he turned and walked out the door.


	22. Chapter 22

**less than a week and an update? Yeah, actually. Woo-hoo.**

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The hospital hallways were fairly clear when Tony got out of Ziva's room, fighting a physical pain in his chest and a sinking feeling in his stomach. Was this really what it came down to? All the fighting, all the hurtful words, everything they had done over the past few months, and it all made them wind up in a place that neither of them knew how to handle. Somehow, they'd found themselves in a world where neither of them really understood each other anymore. He wasn't even sure how it was possible that, within nine months, they'd gone from being practically inseparable to being so far apart that they couldn't even hear each other out when it really mattered.

_"A baby changes everything"_ was what he'd told her a few months ago, before they'd known anything. That had been before they knew that their baby was a girl, before Ziva had started second guessing everything, before their lives had gained a level of insanity that was too much to handle, even for two federal agents who had been exposed to practically every bit of insanity known to man. At the time, he hadn't realized how true his words would wind up being.

It wasn't fair.

Tony had his head down as he made his way toward the door, so he didn't see Gibbs in time to avoid colliding with him. Luckily, the coffee Gibbs was holding was not full, so it didn't spill over, but the encounter still earned Tony a prompt glare. "Where you going, DiNozzo?" he asked, but Tony didn't answer. He just took a path around him and continued outside, ignoring when Gibbs called to him. He needed to be out of those hospital walls, needed the fresh air and the space.

Once he had safely exited the hospital, he took a deep breath. He wanted to scream, curse at everything, punch a brick wall no matter how stupid it seemed because damn it, _it wasn't fair._

He glanced out at the highway at the passing cars, all containing lives that were going on just fine while his was in a downward spiral. Hell, there were people right inside the doors he'd just walked out of that were waiting for babies to be born, too. There were parents in there, going through the same process as Ziva was. But when their babies were born, and the mothers were cleared to leave, they would take their babies home with them. They would get to hold their children every day. He wouldn't have that same privilege, it seemed.

Right after he and Ziva had first fought about adoption versus keeping the baby, he'd wondered if this was just punishment for the life he'd lived. Now, he was more than convinced that life was finally telling him that he'd screwed up enough to deserve this. Karma existed, and he'd laughed at the idea more times than he could remember.

Sighing, he plopped down on a bench, waiting for Gibbs to find him. It didn't take long, and soon Gibbs was sitting beside him, not saying anything, waiting on him to speak first.

Tony tried to find words, searched and racked his brain for anything to say, a way to explain that everything he'd wanted for the past few months was ruined. That he'd gotten his hopes up time and time again only to have them crushed beyond repair. Finally, when he opened his mouth to speak, the statement that slipped past his lips was simple, but it fit the purpose better than anything else he could have said. "I lost."

Gibbs stayed silent for another moment, whether for lack of anything to say or processing information, Tony wasn't sure. Finally, though, he spoke, his voice softer than Tony expected. "You don't know that."

"No, it's done. There's literally nothing else that I can do." Tony stood, pacing, fighting the dread creeping up on him. "She just doesn't think we can do it, and if she doesn't think we can do it, then we can't."

"Because she's looking at you separately," Gibbs said, and Tony stopped, facing his boss with a look of confusion. "She's trying to see how you two could raise a baby with you as the father and her as the mother. She isn't looking at how you two could raise a baby as parents."

Tony let out the breath he didn't realize he'd been holding and sat back down. He looked over at Gibbs and asked the burning question. "Do _you_ think we could do it?"

It hadn't been asked yet, and if there was anyone's opinion that mattered other than his and Ziva's, it was the opinion of the man seated next to him. He'd talked to Gibbs and thought aloud with Gibbs, but he'd never got around to actually asking what opinion Gibbs had on the situation.

"You and Ziva..." Gibbs shrugged a little. "Been through a hell of a lot more than a lot of people have. There's been plenty of times I wasn't sure if the two of you would ever work things out, but you did." Gibbs looked at Tony out of the corner of his eye. "Wouldn't be easy, you two are terrible at talking and you both like to argue."

Tony thought about protesting, but didn't have the energy to do so and knew that he would just be proving Gibbs right if he did. "But we could do it, because it's us," he said instead, filling in the blanks. He swallowed past the knot in his throat, playing with his thumbs as he spoke. "We always figure it out. Why doesn't she see it that way? I've tried to..." He cut himself off, shutting his eyes. "And after all this, there's no way to get us back. Because every time I look at her, I'm just going to see... I'm going to see _her. _We never even talked about a name, really. I don't even know what her name is going to be. How messed up is that?"

Gibbs didn't say anything, but Tony could feel the steely eyes looking at him. When he felt the weight of that heavy stare lift, he looked up to see Gibbs frowning at the highway, lost in his own thoughts. After another moment, Gibbs stood and headed back inside the hospital without another word. It was only then that Tony realized the look that had been on his face. It was the same look he was sure he'd worn himself multiple times throughout the past few months.

Determination.

Of all the things Ziva expected to see when her room door opened, Gibbs was a little bit lower on the list. Abby had just stepped out, coincidentally, so the room was vacant other than the two of them. He sat down, stayed silent for a moment, as if trying to figure out how he was going to say something. For some reason, it made Ziva a little nervous.

"Remember when we came and got you from Somalia?" The topic of conversation took Ziva by surprise, and she looked at Gibbs curiously. "You were pissed at Tony before that, and you two had a lot of things you needed to work out."

"Yes," she said carefully, her curiosity peaking.

"But you fixed it." It wasn't a question, but she nodded anyway.

"We did."

"And when I sent you two to Italy when Harper Dearing was threatening the Navy? Things got bad. But you two watched each other's backs and got each other out of there safe." He didn't give her room to speak again. "And when we needed to get Chaplain Wade out of Columbia? I sent you and DiNozzo for a reason. You got in, found her, got out. You got shot at and took risks, but you had each other's backs, and you accomplished exactly what you were sent to do."

Gibbs paused, letting his words sink in. Slowly, Ziva looked up at him. "What's your point?" she asked, even though she was already very aware of the answer.

"You two work, Ziver, no matter what the situation." He was leveling his eyes at her in a way that only Gibbs could. "No matter what you go through, no matter what you're put against, you figure it out. I just don't want you to make the mistake of letting someone adopt your daughter because you don't think you can do it. I don't want you to regret what you decide."

"You think we can do it," she said in a low tone, clarifying.

Gibbs was looking at her with the strangest expression, and she found it hard to meet his eyes. He shook his head just a little. "I know you can."

Ziva felt her lower lip tremble, and she looked away from Gibbs and his stare, trying to compose herself. "I am scared, Gibbs," she admitted with a broken voice.

He nodded once. "I know that, and there isn't anything wrong with that, but if every parent who was scared put their babies up for adoption, no kids would belong to their biological parents." Ziva took a breath, looking at her stomach as Gibbs continued. "It's your decision, in the end, because DiNozzo's leaving it up to you."

She looked back at him, this man who meant so much to her, who had been a father to her when her own had fell through. Since her father had died, he'd filled the void there even more. And here he was, telling her that he thought she and Tony could be parents. If he believed it, it had to be true, didn't it? Or maybe Tony had been right. Maybe she'd had the wrong viewpoint the entire time.

"I think that I... I have ruined things with Tony. Even if I did..." she hesitated, testing the words out carefully. "Even if I did keep the baby, we have said awful things to each other and I have hurt him. I do not know if it can be fixed."

Gibbs shook his head incredulously. "It's you and DiNozzo. You'll be fine."

It made Ziva chuckle, the idea that the explanation was that simple. She took a moment, putting her hands on her stomach. Her heart rate had picked up a little, and she took deep breaths, trying to sort through everything in her head. "Do you really think I can do this? As well as another couple can?"

Gibbs gave her one curt nod. "And there isn't anything like being a parent. I don't want you to miss the opportunity to raise your child when I know you can handle it. And you've got one hell of a partner out there that wants the opportunity to be a father. Not all unexpected pregnancies have that."

It was a long shot. She was still terrified, and she knew that her fear wasn't just going to go away, but it was as if the words coming from Gibbs meant more to her than anything anyone else could ever tell her. She valued his opinion too much to let his words fall on deaf ears. So, with a trembling voice and a heart tugging in her chest, she closed her eyes, going against everything her mind was telling her when she nodded. "Okay."

"Ziva?" A nurse walked in. "We're about ready. How about you?"

Looking at Gibbs, who had a small smile on his face, Ziva nodded. "Yes."

A knock came at the door, and Tony poked his head in. His face was guarded, careful. "Do you still want me in here?" he asked, and she could see that he was genuinely asking. It made her feel a little guilty. She had put him through hell over the past few months. It would definitely take some time for them to get back to normal. Maybe they'd never be back to their definition of normal, but maybe that wasn't a bad thing. They would find a new normal, all of them. It'd be different, and it wouldn't happen right away, but Ziva suddenly felt like everything would be okay even though she was still scared to death. Either way, she knew she would have to find some way to slowly make it up to him. He deserved that much.

But at least she knew exactly where to start.

She smiled at him, and she could tell that the gesture threw him off guard. "Yes, Tony," she replied, her stomach doing flips that had absolutely nothing to do with being in labor. "Of course I want you in here."

* * *

_little sidenote: I'm not sure how all of you will feel about that... sort of... resolution. I liked the idea of Gibbs getting through to Ziva for some reason, or getting through the rest of it- whatever. Anyway, it might not be what a lot of you were expecting, and I'm not sure why the idea jumped out at me and stuck, but if you liked it, great, and if it disappointed you or you didn't like it, I'm sorry. It's just what I decided to do. _


	23. Chapter 23

**Though I am not finished writing yet, I'm a proofread and a chapter away from that point. That being said, I can tell you with confidence that this story will be 25 chapters and an epilogue (so 26, technically). Thanks again for all the support on this story- it means a lot :) **

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At first, Tony was sure that he was dreaming, or that someone was messing with him. He'd just spent the last half hour standing beside Ziva, the feelings of dread and excitement battling relentlessly inside his mind. When the baby finally made her way into the world, Tony let himself feel happy, at least for a little while. The nurse cleaned her up and handed her to Ziva first while Tony stood to the side, a mixture of shock, awe, and fear keeping him immobile. After a moment of pushing Ziva's hair away from her face, Gibbs placed a kiss on Ziva's head, touched the baby's cheek briefly, and walked out, saying he'd be back soon.

If Tony had been paying more attention, he would have thought that to be strange, but his mind was elsewhere. He was staring at his daughter in Ziva's arms.

She was beautiful.

She had her mother's dark brown orbs, and though the hair on her head was thin, it was dark in color, too. It didn't take much to see that she was most definitely her mother's daughter, because she looked just like Ziva. Tony watched Ziva's face carefully, and her attitude was a lot different than the one he was expecting. Ziva was smiling down at the baby, her eyes bright. She seemed at peace with everything. It threw him off, made him wonder if he'd stepped into an alternate reality.

He was curious, but stayed where he was standing, observing from afar with skepticism lying underneath the surface of his thoughts. After a few minutes of holding her, Ziva looked up at him, and he couldn't read the expression on her face. But then Ziva was gesturing to him, telling him that he could hold his baby girl if he wanted to, looking at him with an expression so different than the ones he'd gotten used to seeing from her. He barely registered moving closer to the bed and gently taking the bundle from Ziva's arms. She was tiny- the doctor's had weighed her and said she was just under seven pounds- but she still fit in his arms perfectly.

He supported her body with one arm and lifted his other hand to hold her own in two of his fingers. She blinked up at him, her eyes wide and innocent. Tears stung his eyes and he tried to blink them back, his breath falling past his lips in a small gasp of amazement. She was the most perfect thing he'd ever seen, and even though he'd known her all of five minutes, he was already completely in love with her. Her little hand gripped at his finger, and he couldn't help but smile. "Hey, sweetheart. You're just the cutest thing, aren't you?" he mused to himself, lost in the feeling of her tiny fingers on his skin.

He held her close to him, not ever wanting to let her go, and pushing the thoughts of doing so out of his mind. He didn't want to cross that bridge yet, not while he was holding her, looking down at her, memorizing every detail of her, like her long eyelashes and tiny nose. His throat was tight, and he glanced up at Ziva to see that she was smiling over at them. She looked exhausted, but strangely content. The baby whined a little, her little face scrunching up in a way that made Tony laugh, and it affectively pulled his attention away from Ziva and back to her.

A moment later, the nurse said she needed to take her to their nursery and do a few necessary things, and he reluctantly let them take her from him. Just as she was about to leave, the nurse turned to Ziva and asked, "Do we need to call the woman who is overseeing your adoption?"

Tony felt like his heart stopped in his chest, and his happiness vanished just as quickly as it had appeared. They wouldn't take her yet, would they? She hadn't been cleared. She'd only been born fifteen minutes ago, for crying out loud. He could feel a sort of panic rising and he tried to stay calm, looking at the TV on the wall for a distraction, listening intently.

"Actually..." Tony felt Ziva's eyes on him, and her tone made him snap his gaze to hers. She was wearing the strangest expression, a mix between anticipation and fear with a little spark of something he couldn't identify. She was watching him closely. "You can call and tell her that... that there's been a change in plans and I... _we_... won't be needing her services."

Tony's jaw fell open just the slightest and his heart very nearly jumped out of his chest. Was she serious? The nurse walked out, but Tony wasn't paying attention. "Really?" It was the only thing he could get past his lips. He was having a little bit of trouble getting air in and out of his lungs.

When Ziva swallowed, but nodded, Tony felt the most liberating relief he'd ever experienced. Before he even realized it, he started laughing to himself, the sudden rush of joy mixed with incredulousness making it hard for him to think straight. "We're keeping her?" he asked, needing clarification. "You aren't letting that couple adopt her?"

Ziva nodded again, and Tony sat down on the couch by the window, running a hand through his hair. He felt tears falling from his eyes, but did nothing to stop or slow them. He looked to Ziva, opening his mouth a few times before he finally got words past his lips. "H-how? Why? What happened?"

Ziva shrugged, playing with her fingers. "I just... Gibbs talked to me a little, and... and I realized that you were right. I have been looking at this the wrong way. I needed to look at it differently, and for some reason, Gibbs helped." A small smile tugged up the corners of her mouth. "He thinks we can do it. Separately, I do not think we could pull this off, but with both of us? Maybe we can. Besides, I... I really did not want to give her away. Gibbs just... pushed me back over the line of indecision I was on."

Tony tucked the reminder to thank Gibbs into the back of his mind before nodding. "We can do this, Ziva. I know we can."

Ziva pursed her lips. "I am still very afraid of... this. It is not going to be easy, and a lot of things will have to change for us to be able to do this... But I am willing to take the risk as long as you are going to be there."

"I will be," Tony told her gently. "I promise." He stood once he was sure he could do so and walked closer to her, coming to stand right beside her bed. He hesitated, reaching over to pick up her hand. "Besides, I'm scared, too. And you know, the best things rarely are easy. Look at us."

Ziva nodded with a smile, giving him that much. "I really do not think I would have been able to give her away anyway." Her face fell just the slightest, as if she'd just thought of something that made her sad. "I am sorry that I... was so difficult. I... I was making myself so scared that I could not focus on anything else. I was so stubborn, and I hurt you. I am very sorry, Tony. I would not forgive me if I were you, for treating you the way that I did and dragging this all out just to change my mind. You did not deserve that."

Tony shook his head at the trivial information. "I forgive you, because that doesn't matter now anyway. What matters is that they're going to bring our little girl back in here to us, and when she's cleared to go home, we'll take her with us, and then we'll figure everything else out from there. Okay?"

Ziva nodded, leaning back and closing her eyes briefly. She pulled her hand from his to rub her palms over her face. "I am exhausted. What time is it?"

Tony looked at the clock. "Three. She was born about twenty minutes ago." He paused, and then sat back down on the couch. "So, what is her name?"

Ziva's mouth dropped open slightly, and guilt settled back in on her features."We never got to really talk about that, and I had a name picked out for..." She trailed off, taken over by a yawn. "I am so sorry."

"Don't worry about it, Ziva. I just wanted to know what you named her. I'm sure I'll love whatever you picked out," he said, assuring her and watching her relax slightly.

"I named her Annabelle. Annabelle Kelly." Ziva's voice was soft, and Tony couldn't help the admiration that swelled in his chest. "I decided to take Abby's advice on what I named her. I think they already wrote it on the card in the little bed over there."

Tony stood to see that Ziva was right, and the name, along with some other information, was scribbled onto a little slip no bigger than an index card. "Annabelle," Tony tested, smiling to himself. "I like it. And if you took Abby's advice... it means something in Hebrew." He looked at her curiously.

Ziva nodded, playing with her fingers. "Annabelle means "grace" in Hebrew," she told him, and Tony nodded in approval.

"It's perfect." he told her affectionately.

Ziva nodded, yawning again. "I like it."

A comfortable silence fell between them for a moment, and then Tony spoke again. "She looks just like you, you know." He felt relaxed for the first time in months, and it showed in his tone. He made his back over to the couch, leaning against it and letting his body ease itself into the cushions.

"She does," Ziva agreed, smiling. "Sorry?"

Tony laughed. "That's not something you apologize for, Ziva. I think it's one reason she's so beautiful."

Ziva blushed slightly, and was at a loss for words. Gibbs walked back in then, and when he saw the postures of the two, he smiled. "You tell him?" he asked Ziva, grinning.

"Yes," Ziva replied, looking happy. She was smiling, and even though she'd just been in labor for about twelve hours, she looked like she was ready to take on the world. There was an underlying exhaustion there, but it didn't seem to matter at the moment. It was a beautiful sight to see. Tony wanted to take her face in his hands, kiss her for everything it was worth, but he knew he probably shouldn't. Maybe once they got settled into this new journey, they could figure out the rest of the details. He hoped they could, anyway.

Gibbs started talking to Ziva about something, but Tony wasn't really listening. He was lost in his thoughts. It was strange, actually, how quickly his entire perspective had changed in the last hour. Sure, it had been a long and terrible few months. Yes, they'd both said a lot of things that hurt each other. But suddenly, it was okay. Just that quickly, everything was forgiven and they were moving on, finally on the same page.

Because they weren't giving up their baby anymore. Instead, they were keeping their Annabelle. And that changed everything.


	24. Chapter 24

The first night after Ziva and Annabelle were cleared to go home, they all went back to Ziva's apartment, and Tony carried her inside in her small pink carrier. Thankfully, once the news of their sudden change in plans had gotten around, Abby and McGee had spent the next two days trying to get things situated enough in Ziva's apartment for a baby. With Tony's credit card, they'd bought essentials- a crib, diapers, blankets, and such- and set everything up in the spare room at Ziva's place, with Tony coming by once to check progress.

"Remind me to thank Abby and McGee for being amazing," Tony said quietly when he walked into the newly arranged nursery. Apparently, the two had found pink wall paper flowers somewhere, because they were covering the walls. Once they'd gotten Annabelle out of her carrier, Tony held her, still not used to the way she felt in his arms. It was something so simple that he knew he'd never take for granted. Annabelle whined a little, her arm coming up over her scrunched up face.

"Tony, I have to feed her," Ziva said after a moment, gesturing for him to hand Annabelle over. She gave him a reason to leave the room, asking if he would see what food she had for them. He nodded, getting the picture and heading toward the kitchen.

Ziva's mood had deflated slightly since Annabelle was born, but she still seemed in good enough spirits. Tony had decided that she was just tired. He rummaged through her kitchen, finding a frozen pizza and putting it in the oven to cook. A minute later, Ziva came out, lacking a baby in her arms, so he figured that she had gotten Annabelle to sleep.

Ziva collapsed on the couch in the living room, her eyes closed, and the apartment fell silent. It gave him time to think about what they were supposed to do now. Deciding to keep the baby wasn't exactly the easier option, and they had a lot they needed to work through, but with Ziva as exhausted as she was, Tony doubted they would figure any of it out soon. Taking a glance at the timer he'd set for the pizza and seeing he had time, he walked back to the nursery, going to stand in front of the crib and stare down at Annabelle. She was sleeping soundly. Tony wanted to reach out and touch her, let himself hold her little hand in his, but he knew that if he woke her up, Ziva would be pissed. So he just admired her from where he stood, an affectionate smile grazing his lips.

After a minute, he walked back into the kitchen and pulled the pizza out of the oven. When he walked into the living room to get Ziva, he noticed that she had fallen asleep. He battled for a moment between letting her sleep and getting her up to eat and then decided to do the former. He grabbed three slices of pizza for himself, standing at the counter and eating them in silence.

He wasn't sure how they were going to work this out. He wondered if Ziva would let him crash on her couch until they figured it out, because he wasn't supposed to go home, was he? He certainly didn't want to. He had a few sets of clothes with him to change into. He could stay for a few days until they talked about it. He wished that they were just together. It would make things a hell of a lot easier on both of them.

About an hour later, Annabelle's soft cries came from the nursery, and Ziva sat straight up on the couch and disappeared down the hall before Tony could even move. He followed her, entering the room to see that Ziva was holding Annabelle and rocking her in her arms. She saw Tony walk in and gave him a tired smile. "Here, let me get her settled back down. You go warm up the pizza on the counter and eat."

Ziva hesitated, but then handed Annabelle to him and walked out. Tony whispered to her, swaying the baby in his arms like Ziva had been doing. Annabelle's eyelids got heavier, and she whimpered a little. Soon after, her eyes were once again closed in sleep, but even then, Tony didn't put her down. He sat down in the rocking chair in the corner instead. He wasn't sure he'd ever get accustomed to seeing her, holding her. He'd thought that he would rarely get the opportunity, and he wanted to take every chance he got. He didn't think he'd ever stop admiring her, either.

He put his pinky finger beside Annabelle's hand, gently coaxing it into her grasp. He heard Ziva walk back in the room, and he looked up at her. "Hey," he whispered, and Ziva smiled.

"You got her back to sleep fast," Ziva commented, leaning against the door frame.

He nodded, standing and settling Annabelle back into her crib before walking over to where Ziva stood. "So, I was thinking that until you get back rested up, I could stay here. You know, crash on the couch or whatever, in case you need any help." It was the only excuse he had for now other than the fact that he didn't want to be five miles from his daughter, and luckily, Ziva either had no problems with the idea or was too tired to argue, because she nodded.

"That's fine. You can use the couch in the living room." She yawned, putting her hand over her mouth.

"You should get some sleep," he told her gently, putting a hand on her elbow. She nodded silently, giving him a grateful half smile before heading toward her bedroom.

Tony changed into the pair of pajama pants he'd brought with him and found a blanket in the hallway closet, settling onto the couch for the night. It wasn't the worst couch he'd ever slept on. His was much more uncomfortable. He wondered how long he could get away with staying there until it caused a problem. He hoped it wouldn't, but he didn't get those hopes too high. He knew that wouldn't work out well for him.

The first week was the hardest.

Ziva had heard that, of course, but until she actually experienced it herself, she didn't fully comprehend it.

The only thing that actually got her through that first week was the fact that Tony had taken up residence on her couch and got up just as many times as she did throughout the night. It was nice to know that she wasn't alone, but she wasn't sure what to do about him sleeping on her couch.

He didn't seem to mind doing so, and he certainly didn't seem to be planning on stopping. In all honesty, Ziva didn't want him to stop. She liked having him around, because he actually was a major help. For some reason, if Annabelle wasn't hungry, Tony got her calmed down much quicker. However, if she was and she needed to be fed, Ziva usually worked better, even after they started feeding her with a bottle.

The first two days, she wondered if she'd made the right choice. She stayed awake almost the whole first night, contemplating her decision and trying to figure out if she'd done the right thing. It wasn't until she woke one night to find Tony in the nursery, singing softly to a sleeping Annabelle, that she knew she had chosen correctly. She had stood at the door for nearly five minutes, just watching the picture in front of her. It brought tears to her eyes, how much Tony loved his daughter. It was the most reassuring sight she could have ever seen.

It made her love him that much more, too.

Ever since they'd brought Annabelle home, she'd wondered how to go about talking to him, because yes, one of the things she'd realized after she'd let herself stop being stubborn was that their night together was most definitely not a mistake. Looking at their daughter was all she needed to know that.

_"__ Not everybody thinks that what happened between us was a mistake that we need to try moving on from. Some people have never thought of it that way." _When Tony had first told her that on his way out the door of her apartment a few months back, she'd shrugged it off, too stubborn and set in her ways to listen to what he was saying. Things had changed, though, and the statement was stuck in her mind, playing over and over.

Even without Annabelle, what had happened between them wasn't a mistake. Not really. The timing might have been bad, but it was inevitable, wasn't it? It was bad enough that she'd gone nine months fighting him on keeping their baby when afterwards she felt stupid for ever thinking of giving her away, but she'd also shut him down from day one, never giving them the chance to figure out what the hell all of this was supposed to mean.

That wasn't fair to him.

By the end of that first week, she'd decided that she did need to talk to him, because there were things that were still left up in the air, conversations that had been forgotten in the rush of deciding to keep Annabelle. It'd only been a week, though, Ziva thought to herself while sitting on the couch, trying to get a few minutes of relaxation while the baby was asleep. They still could both use some time to get used to the routine they'd fallen into now before she tried to add something else into the equation.

A knock came at the door, and she stood to open it, letting Tony in. "How was work?" she asked conversationally as he came in the door with a pizza.

"Fine. Everyone misses you." He grinned at her and she couldn't help but smile in return.

"I have a while before I will go back to work," she told him, not even able to comprehend going back to work at the moment.

"I know." He shrugged. "How's Annabelle? She asleep?" He sat the pizza box on her table and opened it with a grin in her direction. Ziva nodded, and Tony seemed to see that her thoughts were preoccupied. "Something on your mind?"

She met his eyes briefly, and his brow furrowed in confusion. "Yes, but I am... I do not want to talk about it right now."

Tony tilted his head curiously, but thankfully, he dropped the subject, handing Ziva a piece of pizza and then getting some for himself. Ziva just watched him, trying to figure out how she was supposed to just bring up the fact that she had been lying to herself all along and was completely in love with him.

It certainly wasn't something to be brought up over pizza.

"Shh," Ziva hummed to Annabelle, gently rocking her in her arms before finally placing her in her crib. She sighed with relief, her body tired. Walking into her living room, she saw Tony was already lying down on the couch, looking intently at the roof.

She watched him for a moment before making her presence known. "If you stare at my roof any harder, you are going to put a hole in it."

His eyes found hers for the briefest moment, a smile lighting up his features. He sat up, looking at her expectantly. "Are you okay today? You're acting a little strange."

She wanted to laugh at the question, but resisted. "I am fine," she told him, and it was true. She was fine. A little too lost in her own thoughts, but fine otherwise.

"Okay. If you're sure." He was looking at her strangely, not buying her story.

She briefly considered sitting down beside him, but with her thoughts not quite sorted out yet, she knew that would turn into a train wreck. So, instead, she smiled and went to bed, knowing that she only had a few hours before Annabelle would probably wake up, and she definitely needed the rest.

It was another two and a half weeks later when he finally pulled her to the side while Annabelle was sleeping, begging to know what was wrong. "I know you're not fine, Ziva," he said, his eyes searching hers for answers. "I'm not sure what's wrong, but something is. You don't seem happy." She watched his expression and knew that he'd thrown ideas of them actually being together to the far corners of his mind, whether because it wasn't important at the moment or because he didn't think it was a possibility, she wasn't sure.

She shrugged, avoiding his eyes. "You remember how you told me that... that what happened... was not a mistake?"

She didn't look at him, but she could imagine his eyebrows coming together. "Yeah."

"You were right. And... I have been... I have thought about it and even if it were not for that... that beautiful child down the hall... it still was not a mistake. I was... denying the truth to myself because I was... scared of what that would mean."

She looked up at him then, and his eyes were soft. "You don't have to be scared," he said gently.

"I know, but... that does not mean I am not." She looked down again, but then she felt his hand take her own, and she looked back up.

"We can get past that." He was leaving the door open, allowing room for her to pull away if she wanted to. She swallowed, trying to figure out how her life had changed so drastically in such a short amount of time. But in all honesty, she was tired of being scared.

So, she closed the gap between them, pressing her lips to his. His hand found the back of her neck and held her there for only a moment, and then she was pulling away. "Yes," she told him with assurance, smiling. "We can get past that."


	25. Chapter 25

Well, there's this chapter, then the very short, fluffy epilogue I have written out. I have a lot to say, but I'll wait until I post that. You guys are amazing.

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After a few weeks, their routine became easier, more natural. They settled comfortably into something that worked for them, something they could both handle. They would alternate who got up when Annabelle woke up during the night in a way that both of them still got enough sleep to function during the day, Ziva as a full-time mom and Tony as a full-time federal agent. Every morning, Tony would make himself coffee, which he was keeping Ziva's cabinet filled with, and at some point, Ziva would get up long enough to see him before he left. She'd give him a quick peck on the cheek, usually, and see him off.

Every afternoon, he would come back and greet her with a smile that made her feel like she was worth more than gold. And even though she managed just fine throughout the day, she couldn't help the little burst of relief mixed with joy that she felt whenever he walked through the door.

"Have you been buying coffee?" Ziva asked one day when he got home, her eyebrows scrunched together in confusion.

He couldn't help the laugh that escaped him. "Ziva, I've been doing that for three weeks."

She pursed her lips, shaking her head and chuckling at herself. "I guess I have been tired. I noticed today that I should definitely be out by now, but I am not."

He shrugged, his chest still shaking slightly with laughter. "You're welcome," he told her, throwing a wink at her.

"I am not sure what I would do if you weren't here," she said in a teasing voice, but there was a serious undertone that he picked up on. He smiled at her, and was seriously considering kissing her when a small cry came from down the hall.

"I'll get her," Tony said eagerly, heading toward the nursery. He leaned down to pick Annabelle up out of her crib, wincing just a little as his back cracked.

"Is your back bothering you?" Ziva inquired from the door as Tony straightened. He gave her a dismissive look and a shake of his head.

"It's fine." He turned his attention back to Annabelle and smiled down at her. To be honest, all the nights on her couch were starting to bother him, but there wasn't any way he was going to stop staying there.

"How was your day?" he asked the infant in his arms, putting his finger in her hand. Her cries quieted and she looked up at him with wide eyes. He made a face at her, grinning in accomplishment when she smiled.

"You know," Ziva started, sounding uncertain, and Tony lifted his head to look at her. "If your back is... bothering you, you do not have to sleep on the couch."

He knew what she was offering, and he knew trying to joke it off was pointless, but it didn't stop him from trying. "Well, the recliner probably isn't any more-"

"Tony." Her voice was firm, and he stopped short. She was giving him an exasperated look, but there wasn't any force behind it. "I am not asking you to sleep on the recliner."

He took a step closer to her, smiling sheepishly. "Yeah, I know."

"Okay then," she said, looking up at him. He stared at her for a moment, smirking. She rolled her eyes at him, grinning despite her attempt to be annoyed at him. He laughed at her and she rolled her eyes again. He thought she was out of any other responses, but when she put her hand gently on the arm holding Annabelle and leaned up to press quick kiss to his lips, he was proved wrong.

And that night, when they went to go to bed, he climbed in beside her. Their knees brushed as they did so, and there was a moment where neither of them was really sure how much the other was willing to give or take. Then, slowly, Ziva moved closer to him, settling her head just above his shoulder. He leaned his head against hers, and it was enough for the moment despite the fact that he desperately wanted her closer.

By the time they each got up twice with Annabelle and woke up in the morning, Ziva's head was on Tony's shoulder and they both had one arm around the other's waist.

He slept in her bed every night after that, too, and after the second night, they didn't begin each night with simply lying next to each other. They just let themselves get wrapped in each other's arms from the second they climbed into bed.

If it was anyone else, it would seem as if the more serious aspect of their relationship was progressing at too quick of a rate, but it was them, and that made a difference. It felt as if their "relationship" had been progressing for years, and that their newly found closeness was just an extension of that development.

Every once in a while, Tony would go to his apartment and get more clothes to wear or wash the ones he'd been wearing, but he had practically moved in with Ziva and neither of them really minded. On the night after Annabelle turned three months old, Tony and Ziva were lying in her bed as they usually did, but Ziva wasn't going to sleep. Instead, she was drawing patterns into Tony's chest, her lips pursed in thought. He turned his head to look at her, a glint in his eyes. She gave him a small half smile, and the uncertainty in her gaze was enough to worry him.

"So, I was thinking," she began, and Tony turned his body so that he was on his side, facing her. Her hand slipped from his chest to rest on the bed.

"About what?" he asked, watching her closely.

She could feel her nerves picking up even though she knew it was silly to be nervous. She was sure her offer wouldn't be turned down, but the concept still made her stomach twist into knots. "I was thinking... you practically already live here. You might as well move the rest of your stuff here. You know, officially move in."

He gave a sort of nod, the best that can be given lying down, but then he grinned at her. "I've been thinking, too."

She looked at him questioningly. "Oh?"

His grin widened slightly. "Yeah. I was thinking that your apartment is great, but for the three of us? It's a little small. There is an apartment complex between here and my apartment. I've already looked into it, and it's bigger than what you have, but not too huge. And compared to what we pay combined right now, it's cheaper. We could rent one of those for a while, and..." For a moment, she thought he was going to say more, but then he seemed to decide against it. "And... yeah," he finished a little awkwardly, giving her a sheepish smile.

Ziva felt her heart skip in her chest, and before she'd registered the motion, she'd taken his face in her hands and kissed him with all the passion she could muster. His hands slowly wound around her waist and he pulled her as close as possible. When they parted, she had tears in her eyes and a goofy grin on her face.

"How long have you been thinking about this?" she asked, curious.

His face fell slightly, and he reached for her hand, playing with her fingers. "Well, when I first found out you were pregnant, I... uh, I looked into a few places just... just to see. And then last week, I went back to the few that I had looked at before and... found the one that I liked the best. If you want to go actually look at them, that would be okay but-"

Ziva silenced him with a quick kiss. "I think that whatever you have picked out is fine," she whispered against his lips, and he smiled.

"Okay."

Nearly three weeks later, with the help of the rest of the team, Tony and Ziva moved all of their stuff out of their old apartments and into their new one. It took almost the entire day, but in the end, the day was a success. That night, they celebrated their new beginning with everyone at the new place. Abby went on and on about how happy she was that everything had worked out so perfectly while cooing relentlessly at Annabelle, and while Gibbs stayed mostly silent, his approval was strong in the way he looked at them. The rest of the team talked and laughed through the evening, with Tony and Ziva just soaking in all the love and happiness being shared.

At about nine, everyone said their goodbyes and left. When Tony closed the door, he turned and enveloped Ziva in his arms, pulling her close and pressing a kiss to her forehead. "That was nice," he said conversationally, and she nodded, giving him a small smile.

"It was."

"So..." Tony tilted his head at her. "We're all good?"

The question could have a lot of meanings, but Ziva knew the one that Tony was mostly aiming for. "Yes," she told him firmly. "I have not even second guessed anything since..." She trailed off, smiling at the fond memory.

"Since what?" he asked, raising an eyebrow.

"There was one night I walked into the nursery and... you were rocking Annabelle and singing to her." Ziva's voice grew quiet, and she broke their eye contact. "I stood there for a few minutes and watched you. It was... it was a beautiful sight. And..." She shrugged and looked back up at him. Her eyes were shining slightly. "It was then that I was... absolutely sure I had made the right decision. I have not given it another thought since that night."

Tony smiled and pulled her to him, laughing softly to himself. She buried her head in his neck and her chest swelled with affection. He let her go long enough to kiss her, his hands tangling in her hair. When they separated, he let his forehead fall to rest against hers, his hands running through her hair and then finding her waist.

"God, I love you," he said, and then he realized that he'd spoken aloud. For a moment, he was afraid that it was too far, that the step would be too much, but then Ziva smiled at him, and he relaxed.

She hesitated only a brief moment. "I... I love you, too." She turned to look around at their apartment. "I never thought we'd end up here. It's not exactly where I pictured myself a year ago."

"I guess it is... a change. But... I don't know. I think we would have wound up here eventually anyway. Besides, it's working out with a lot less stress than I imagined." Tony followed Ziva's eyes around the apartment that already felt like home, in a strange way.

Ziva nodded, almost as if to herself, and then grinned. "Maybe it is a sign."

He didn't respond because Annabelle stirred from her spot on a blanket in the floor, and Ziva's attention was transferred as a result. He watched her as she slipped from his arms and picked up their little girl, holding her close. It was the most beautiful image he could have ever imagined, watching his family from across the room, except he wasn't imagining it.

It was real, and even though it had all happened so unexpectedly, it was absolutely perfect in every way possible.


	26. Epilogue

_I literally can't believe this is it! A special thanks to Zay (girlwiththefeels) for proofreading an early chapter and giving me advice that helped with the rest of the story. Also, thanks Carrie (israelifemmefatale) and Megan (probalicious) for proofreading a chapter when I was a little iffy about some stuff. Also, a big thank you to Anne (fivefeetofme) for becoming my proofreader up until about four chapters ago. _

_Finally, thank you to every single person who read, reviewed, favorited, liked, reblogged, or whatever-ed this story. The support and positive feedback meant the world to me. You guys are the absolute best. I also have another story idea that I'm currently writing (it will be called Journey- post Somalia fic) and I'm super excited to start posting chapters of it and see what you guys think. Now, without further ado, here is about 1000 words of fluffy epilogue. Stay golden. I love you all more than words can say. _

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**_Eight Months Later _**

"Tony!" Ziva called down the hall, searching for Annabelle's headband. She'd just had it in her hand, and suddenly she couldn't find it anywhere. Where had she put it? "We're running late. Have you seen the headband I picked out for Annabelle to wear?"

Tony appeared from the hallway, Annabelle on his hip. "It's on her head, sweetheart."

Ziva stopped, looking at her daughter and pursing her lips, confused. "Did I put it on her?"

"No." He chuckled a little. "I got it and put it on. I'm not completely incompetent, you know."

She stared at him for a moment, registering this information a little slowly. Then, she laughed a little, nodding. "Yes, I know you're not. Are we ready to go?"

"Are we ready, Annabelle?" Tony asked his daughter, and she stared at him briefly before pointing toward the door. He turned to look at Ziva. "The person who is really in charge here has spoken. Well, kind of."

Ziva rolled her eyes at him, smiling. "Okay, let's go."

"No, I swear, she gets cuter every time I see her," Abby said enthusiastically when Tony and Ziva walked in with Annabelle. "How's the birthday girl?"

Abby held her hands out to the one year old, smiling when Annabelle allowed her to take her. It was a privilege known to only a handful of people. "She slept a little late, so she's wired," Tony told Abby. "But have fun chasing her around."

"I like how you assume I'm going to," Abby said, tilting her head and raising her eyebrows almost like a child in defiance.

"Assume?" he questioned, mirroring her expression.

Abby shrugged. "Fair enough. Come on, Annabelle Kelly DiNozzo, we're going to go play."

As Abby disappeared down the hall, Breena walked up to Ziva, putting her arms around her in a hug. "I have a question for you," she said, and as they walked off, Tony laughed to himself. Jimmy and Breena had adopted a newborn about six months after Annabelle was born, and if they ever needed help with anything, they turned to their coworkers. Sometimes, it was a little repetitive, but when it came down to it, neither of them minded.

"Jimbo, how's that little man of yours?" Tony asked as he approached Jimmy, slapping a hand on his shoulder.

"Okay, ow." Jimmy smiled at him regardless, and started proudly talking of how well Roger was doing.

Ziva reappeared with Breena at about the same time Annabelle came running, as best she could, into the room, laughing. She made it to her father's leg and latched on to his pants, giggling the whole way.

"Did you lose your friend?" he asked as Abby walked in, her lips pursed.

"I don't know how you do it," she said after a moment, looking at both Tony and Ziva before shrugging and going to sit down on the couch.

"Giving up already, Abby?" Ziva took a quick glance at the clock on the wall. "It's barely been five minutes."

"I'm not giving up, per say. I'm just... taking a break? She's Tony's child. You need a break every few minutes." Abby shrugged a little, grinning in Tony's direction. Annabelle moved from where she was behind Tony's leg and went to climb upon the couch beside Abby with some assisstance, tilting her head back to look up at her.

"Hey, that's also where she gets her charming personality." Tony threw a wink at Ziva, who laughed, but said nothing.

"Charming's not the word I'd use, DiNozzo," Gibbs said as he walked in, carrying a plate of freshly grilled hamburgers.

Tony put his hands up in defeat as the rest of the team seemed to show up out of thin air with the smell of the food, and they all started fixing plates. Soon, the room was filled with laughing and talking around the room as they ate, Annabelle sitting on her father's knee, thrilled that she was getting little pieces of her father's hamburger.

It was later, while Abby was once again chasing Annabelle around the yard while everyone else watched on, that Tony walked up and wrapped his arms around Ziva from behind, his hands linking over her stomach. He put his head on her shoulder, pressing a quick kiss to her jaw. "You're awfully quiet," he mumbled into her skin, and she flinched a little, a smile pulling up her lips.

"I am just... watching," she said, leaning into him. "Annabelle loves Abby. If she starts calling her "mama", we will have a problem."

"Well, that would mean the original is replaceable, and she isn't," he told her, pulling her in a little tighter. He let his finger lightly trace over the ring on the fourth finger of her left hand and then linked his fingers with hers.

"I appreciate that," she teased lightly, laughing as Abby caught up to Annabelle and swung her up in her arms. Ziva laughed a little to herself, shaking her head.

"What is it?" he asked, loosening his arms and letting her turn in his embrace so that she was facing him.

"I am... happy." She smiled up at him, shrugging a little. "Things changed so quickly and all this was so unpredictable. I never thought... I could be this happy, but... I am."

Tony, briefly overwhelmed with emotion, lifted one hand to thread his fingers through her hair and kiss her softly. "Love you," he whispered when they parted.

"Love you, too," she replied, going to kiss him again, only to be cut short when Annabelle pushed herself between their legs, giggling. Tony let Ziva go and picked Annabelle up, kissing her on the cheek noisily. Annabelle giggled, which caused her parents to smile at her.

"Well," Tony began, supporting Annabelle on his side with one arm and wrapping the other around Ziva's waist. Annabelle reached for her father's hair, trying to grip it in her hand. "I think that as far as things being unpredictable goes, we are just getting started."


End file.
